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OUR 



PIONEEE HEEOES 

AND THEIE 

DAEma DEEDS. 

THE 

LIVES AND FAMOUS EXPLOITS 

OF 

DE SOTO, 

CHAMPLAIN, LA SALLE, 

SMITH, STANDISII, BOONE, KENTON, 

BRADY, CROCKETT, BOWIE, HOUSTON, CARSON, 

HARNEY, CUSTER, CALIFORNIA JOE, 

WILD BILL, BUFFALO BILL, 

MILES, CROOK, 

AND 

OTIIEE HERO EXPLOEERS, RENOWNED FRONTIER 

FIGHTERS, AND CELEBRATED EARLY SETTLERS 

OF AMERICA, FROM THE EARLIEST 

TIMES TO THE PRESENT. 



BY D. M. KELSEY. 




Ik 



PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED. ' 



rillLADEM'IIIA AND ST. LOUIS: 

SCAMMELL & COMPANY^ PUBLISHERS. 

1887. 



.lid 



COFYRIOHT 1SS2, 

By SCAMMELL & CO. 

All Ilii^hts Reserved. 



PREFACE. 



MANY are the books that give in interesting detail the ad- 
ventures of a single or a few heroes, or of a restricted region 
of the American frontiers. But it has been the conception of this 
volume to present a broad view, embracing the more celebrated 
episodes of the life led by the most noted pioneer explorers, 
early settlers and brave soldiers who have won distinction in 
border warfare. It is surely a worthy task to gather, in a natu- 
ral, chronological succession, records of those thrilling exploits, 
the recitals of which, oft repeated, have secured their heroes 
immortality. 

If it be objected that many of these worthies seemed to lack a 
sufficient respect for the sacredness of human life, their surround- 
ings should be remembered. If they were apparently too ready 
with the knife or the trigger, it was because their own lives were 
felt to be held cheaply by many about them who were unre- 
strainable by law. 

At least we have glorified no gory outlaws, nor have we paint- 
ed in alluring colors the road to the penitentiary or the scaffold. 

The chain is nearly complete : not entirely, for it was not de- 
signed to make a set history of all border events of interest. 
The chief aim has been to display the differing phases of the same 
long battle on the frontiers, from decade to decade, through centu- 
ries, as the Indian races were gradually pushed back by the march 
of the encroaching white race, till it enveloped them on all sides. 
It is impossible to give, in a single volume, or, indeed, in a small 
library, the lives of all Americans who have met with remarkable 
and thrilling adventures with either brute or human aborigines. 
But it is believed that the most typical character of each strong- 
ly marked period has been selected; and while it is also imprac- 



VI PREFACE. 

ticable to include all the stories relating to such men, it is thought 
that those incidents most characteristic of a man and his times, 
and possessing the most interest to the reader, have been chosen. 
So many diiferent volumes have been consulted, that to refer 
each statement to the authority upon which it is based would 
needlessly encumber the book. When the original j^ossesses spe- 
cial interest, as in the case of Boone's Autobiography, or Crock- 
ett's Diary in the Alamo, it is specially quoted. 

D. M. K. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTEE I. 
FEEDINAND DE SOTO. 
Birth and Education — The Grandee's Daughter — Getting Pad of the Lover — In Amer- 
ica — The Duel — Sentenced to Deatli — ^With Pizarro in South America — Acquires 
Wealth at Last — Keturns to Spain — ^Honors — Marriage — Discontented — Organ- 
izes an Expedition to Florida — His Lieutenant — Hostile Keception by Natives — 
Obdurate Ucita — The Lieutenant Goes out for Wool and Comes Back Shorn — 
De Soto Gets Fairly on the Way — To the Land of Gold Hats — Perversity of the 
Indians — Attacked on Every Hand — Vitacucho's Plot and its Miscan-iage — De 
Soto Still Eesolute — Presses Forward — The Indian Princess — Spanish Gratitude 
• — Tuscaloosa — A Grand Reception, a Battle and a Massacre — Northward through 
Difficulties— The Father of Waters— Still Westward, Ho !— Driven Back— Insults 
and Injuries — Sickness — Death — His Grave — The End of the Romance. . . 19-46 

CHAPTEE IL 
THE FRENCH PIONEERS. 

Why They Came — Dragons, Griffins and Demons — Cartler — Champlain— Early 
Life — The Colonists — A Canadian Winter — Explorations — Kindness to the In- 
dians — Return to France — ^Back to Canada Again — ^A Convert that Liked Pie— 
Buildmg Quebec— Intense Cold— Champlain Takes the War-path— The Battle on 
Lake Champlain — The Iroquois Make the Acquaintance of a Gun — Presenting 
the Head of an Iroquois to the King — Another Campaign— Finding the Way to 
China — A Brazen Liar — A Defeat — Difficulties witlj Disorderly Colonists — Death 
of Champlain — Father Marquette — The Jesuits in America — From Canada 
Down the Mississippi to the Arkansas — Death of the Missionary — La SjUXE — 
Early Life — Coming to Canada — Glowing Indian Accounts of the Country — Ex- 
ploration of the Ohio — Preparations for Another Expedition — Obtains a Patent 
—Builds a Stone Fort and a Ship — Treachery and Disaster — To the Mississippi 
— Kindly Received — Monso's Night Visit and its Consequences — A Perilous Jour- 
ney — ^A False Alarm — Another Plan — Traverses the Mississippi — Beaujeu Deserts 
— ^In Texas — To Canada for Help— Discord — A Shot from the Grass— Death of 
La Salle 47-81 

CHAPTEE III. 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 

His Early Ambition — Serves as a Soldier — Studies Military Science — Is Thrown Over- 
board — ^Adventures in the Turkish War — ^A Lively Champion — Capture and 
Slavery — ^Escape — Joins the Virginian Colony — Dissensions on the Voyage — Ac- 
cused of Conspiracy — Settlement and Explorations — Oftends the Officials — Con- 
founds his Accusers — The First Fight — Hardships in the Colony — An Expedi- 
tion—Surprised by the Savages— Desperate Fight— Captured by Indians— Poca- 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

hontas Saves Smith — Made President of the Colony — A Cure for Profanity — 
Plot against Powhatan — Trick for Trick — Takes a Chief Captive — Bringing the 
Dead to Life — What the Company Desired — Savages Experiment with Powder 
— Keinforcements — Hurt by an Explosion — Keturns to England — Goes to New 
England — Captured by Pirates — Escapes in a Small Boat — Pocahontas in Eng- 
land — Massacre at Jamestown — Death of Smith .... 82-109 

CHAPTEE lY. 
CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 
Descent — Service in Flanders — The Puritans — Attempts to Depart for " Virginia " 
— Voyage on the Maj-flower — Exploring the Coast — Attacked by Indians — Ter- 
rible "Weather — Landing of the Pilgrims at Plpnouth — Building Homes — Sick- 
ness and Death in the Colony — Danger Threatens — Samoset's AVelcome — Visit of 
Massasoit — Treaty — Avenging Squantum — Expedition Northward — Declaration 
of War — Sending Back the Snake-skin — Priscilla — Squantum's False Eeports — 
Obtaining Food — We\Tnouth — Standish's Fight with Pecksnot, the Braggart— 
Eeport of Standish's Death — Marriage of John Alden and Priscilla — Return of 
the Captain — Massasoit Eequests Help — Trouble with Neighboring Colonies — 
Eemoval to Duxburj- — Pequod War — Death of Capt. Standish — Massasoit's Suc- 
cessors — Indian Jealousy of "White Pule — King Philip's War Begins — Mount 
Hope — Brookfield — The Swamp Fight — Philip Eesolute — A Savage's Eevenge 
—King Philip's Death— End of the War 110-146 

CHAPTEE V. 

GENEEAL ISEAEL PUTNAM. 

Early Years— Thrashing the City Boy— Caught Up a Tree— Shoot, I Tell Tou !— 
Eemoval to Connecticut — The Famous Wolf Adventure — A Popular Hero — 
French and Indian War — Braddock's Defeat — Putnam as a Eanger — A Danger- 
ous Situation — In the Midst of the Enemy — A Pierced Canteen — A Wary Senti- 
nel—Attack on the Boats — The Biter Bit — Cowardly Subordinates — Wood-cut- 
ting—Disregarding Orders to Save Comrades — The Barracks on Fire— Putnam 
Saves the Magazine — Down the Eapids of the Hudson — ]Major Eogers' Careless- 
ness— A Fight in the Woods— Putnam Captured— Brutality of the Indians— Pre- 
paring for the Torture— Eescued— Exchanged— Taking the Ship— Pontiac's Con- 
spiracy— Eeturn Home— Oppression of the Colonies— Endeavors of British to 
Bribe American Officers — Bunker Hill— Superintending Hard Work — The Dash 
Down Horseneck— Two Duels, in Both of which Wit is his Weapon— Paralysm 
—Death 147-176 

CHAPTEE YI. 
CAPTAIN SAI^IUEL BEADY. 

Early Life— A Volunteer Eifleman— No Commission, if You Please— An Officer in 
Spite of Eefusal— Another Kind of Work— The Eeason Why— Sent to Sandusky 
— Eescues Prisoners— Another Trip- Shooting the Dog— "Give the Others a 
Chance"— The Others Get a Chance— But Brady Gets the Scalps— Phouts— 
They Take a Prisoner— Phouts Gets Disgusted, and the Prisoner Gets Killed— 
Brady Captured— A Pappooso in Danger— Three Big Injuns Sitting in a Eow— 
Brady Takes Aim and Away they Go— A Night Attack— At Brady's Lake— 



CONTENTS. IX 

Brady's Leap Across the Cuyahoga — A New Kind of "Wild Turkej- — Brought to 
Trial— A Triendly Witness— Last Days 177-192 

CHAPTEE VII. 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE, 
Boone's Eame — Early Training — A Deer Turns Out a Dear — Leaves North Carolina 
for Iventuck}' — The Neutral or " Dark and Bloody Ground " — Captured by the 
Indians — The Escape — The Lonely Camp — Squire Boone's Amval — Alone in the 
"Wilderness — Savage Visits — Eemoves his Family to Iventuckj^ — Attack on the 
Emigrants — Disheartened Companions— The Dunmore "War — Back Again— Settle- 
ment at Boonesborough — Ecjection of the Peace-Belt — Capture of the Three Girls 
— The Rescue — The First Siege of Boonesborough — The Second Siege — Capture 
of Boone and Surrender of his Party — A Particular Attachment for Boone — His 
Indian Toilet — Escapes Again — A Smart Fight — The Third Siege — Parleying — • 
"A Singular Custom" — An Unsuccessful Attempt at Treachery by the Besiegers — 
A Mine and a Countermine — The Siege liaised — Saltmaking — Squire Boone Killed 
— Flight for Life — The Hat Stratagem — Bobbed — L^njust Suspicions — A Bloody 
Fight — Attack on Bryant's Station — The "Water Carriers — The Decoy — Cunning 
against Cunning — Reinforcements — Pursuit of the Indians — IMcGary's Rash 
Courage— A Battle that Becomes a Slaughter — Heavy Loss — Flight to the Settle- 
ments — Noble Deeds — Peace — Boone a Farmer — The Tobacco Stratagem — 
Throws Dust in the Eyes of the Indians — Land Speculators — Loses His Home — 
Removes East — Too Crowded — Learns of a Happy Land — To "W^hich He Re- 
moves — Prosperitj- — Trouble Again Avith Titles — Pa3'ing Off Debts — Old Age 
—Death . . , . 193-226 

CHAPTEE YIII. 

SIMON KENTON. 
A Boyish Passion — His First Victory — Disastrous Result — His Flight — "Wanderings 
and Adventures — ^In Dunmore's "War — At Boonesborough — Saves Boone from 
the Indians — A Horse-Stealing Expedition — Captured — Plenty of Fun for the 
Indians — Not So Much for Kenton — Too Much of a Free Ride — A Hu"- — At- 
tempts to Escape— Recapture— The Council House— Condemned to the Torture 
and Death — Simon Girty — The Renegade's Intercession — The Unreasonableness 
of his Request-:-The Decision Reversed — A Larger Council Confirms the First — 
Girty Powerless — Logan Fails to Save Kenton — The Captive is Borrowed — ^But 
Not Returned to the Lenders — Escapes to Boonesborough — Service as Soldier — 
Loses his Land — Effort to Regain it — Visits the Legislature — Unexpected Honors 
— " Proudest Day of ]My Life " — Death 227-245 

CHAPTEE IX. 

OTHER HEROES OF THE DAYS OF BOONE. 

Thk "Wetzels — Boyish Years — Capture of Jacob and Lewis "Wetzel — Escape of the 
Boys— Killing of Mills— Lewis "Wetzel Chased by Four Indians— Lewis Wetzel 
Loading while Running— "Him Gun Always Loaded "—Jacob "Wetzel and Ken- 
ton Go on a Hunt— Old "Wetzel's Heroism while IMortally "Wounded — Aveng- 
ing their Father— Martin "Wetzel Captured— Kills Three Indians and Escapes 



X CONTENTS. 

— Lewis Wetzel Hiints Indians — "I'll Take a Scalp or Lose my Own" — He 
Takes One — Another Hunt — Trees Four Indians — One Gets Away — Ofiends 
Against Military Law — Captured — Escape — Popular Feeling — Pursuing Ma- 
rauders — An Impetuous Lover — A Weary Hunter — A Watchful Dog — A 
Worthy Foe — A Close Shave — The Poes — A Party of Avengers — Two Birds 
with One Stone — Andrew Poe's Fight with Two Indians — A Desperate Battle — 
Help Arrives — Shot by Friends — Major Samuel McCulloch — Siege of Fort 
Henry— McCulloch's Force Arrives — Gets into the Fort — But the Major is Cut 
Off — Famous Leap Down Wheeling Creek — A Slippery Customer — Adventur- 
ous Logston — Between Two Fires — Equally Matched — A Greased Pig — Logston 
Holds Him— Plucky, Though Wounded— No Evidence of the Fight . 246-270 

CHAPTER X. 
THE CRAWFORD EXPEDITION. 

The Moravian Indians — Their Supposed Treachery — The Proposed Punishment — 
The Expedition— The Battle— The Retreat— Capture of Col. Crawford and Dr. 
Knight — The AVhite Savage, Girty — Some Account of His Life— Horrible 
Death of Col. Crawford — Escape of Dr. Knight — Another Captive — Slover's 
Youth — The British Governor's Message — The Celestial Fire Department — 
The Giant Longknife — The Giant Dwarfed — Wakeful Watchers — Broken 

Bonds— Slover Escapes 271-284 

CHAPTEE XI. 
SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 

Women Worth Defending — Mrs. Dustin — The Laggard's Punishment — Escape Im- 
possible — But Accomplished — Betty Zane — Going for Ammunition — No Shot 
Wasted on a White Squaw — A Widow's Home — The Night Attack — A Moth- 
er's Decision — Smoked Out — A Heroine's Death — Pursuit — Daring Scouts — 
Discovered — An Appeal for Help— The Captive Maiden — Her Safety Consult- 
ed — The Scouts Attacked — A Gloomy Outlook — Unexpected Help — No 
Further Use for Her — "Trust Me" — A Tale of Revenge — A Daring Guide — A 
Wounded Man — His Plucky Wife — Down the Chimney — A Newcomer — A 
Young Wife's Defense of Her Children — Three Indians with One Bullet — 
Twenty-five Scared Off by One Woman 285-303 

CHAPTEE XII. 
LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 

The West in 1800 — Census Figures Then and Now — Attempts at Making Overland 
Passages to the Pacific — Purchase of Louisiana from the French — Jefferson's 
Plan — Setting Out of the Expedition — The Ancestors of the Osages — Councils 
with the Indians — A Treacherous River — Indian Horse Thieves — A Fight Threat- 
ened— Winter Quarters— Assault on a Small Partj-- Losses— A Retaliatory Ex- 
pedition—Bear Fights— A Close Shave — A Buffalo Hunt— Exploring— Appal- 
ling Stories — Trading with the Nez Perces Indians — Crossing the Mountains 
— Descending the Columbia— Winter Quarters— Eye- Water Medicine Men — 
On the Return— Encamp with Eight Blackfeet— Thievishness of their Vis- 
itors—A Lively Time 304-318 

CHAPTEE XIII. 
GEN. WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 

Birth and Education — Commissioned Ensign — Service Among Ohio Indians — Civil 
Appointments — British vs. American Treatment of Indians — Turbulent State of 



CONTENTS. XI 

the Country — Elskwatawa, the Prophet — Tecumseh, the Chief — Indian Efforts at 
Reformation — Teeumseh's Education and Early Experiences — League of the 
Tribes — Appeals to Superstition — Eloquence of the Prophet — The Prophet's 
Town — Teeumseh's Life-work — Efforts to Conciliate Indians — Reception of the 
Measenger — Outwitting the Governor — Rumors of War — Haughty Treatment — 
Council at Vincenncs — Almost a Fight — Departure of Harrison for the Indian 
Village — Encampment on the Tippecanoe — The Attack — The Battle — Defeat of 
the Prophet — The Prophet's Generalship — Peace in Indiana — Gov. Harrison's 
Courage — Tecumseh Returns — Gives the Prophet a Shaking — The Chief Joins 
the British — Indians Spoiling for a Fight — Teeumseh's Independence — TheBu - 
tie — Death of Tecumseh — Gen. Harrison's Military Reputation — Conduct As- 
persed — Vindicated — Resignation — Political Success — The Log Cabin and Hard 
Cider Campaign — Sudden Death 319-344 

CHAPTEE XIV. 
COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 

His Family and Birth — Childhood — Hired Out — Runs Home — Three Days at School 
• — Why He Left — How He Returned — School Again — A Wedding in Prospect 
• — Skill as a Marksman — Jilted — Disconsolate — Married — Soldier Life — Loses 
His Wife — Marries Another — Made a Magistrate — Elected Colonel of Militia — 
Member of the State Legislature — Losses in Business — Removal to the "Shakes" 
— His Rifle, Betsy — A Bear Fight — la the Legislature Again — Electioneering — 
Stump Speeches — Opposition to Jackson — More Boar Hunting — A Business 
Venture — A Narrow Escape — Elected to Congress — A Pleasure Trip North — 
Enthusiastic Reception — "Go Ahead" — Ten Quarts of Rum for a Coon-skin — 
Job Snelling's Honesty — Defeated — Thimblerig — Encounter with a Cougar — 
Enters San Antonio — Defense of the Alamo — A Skirmish — Storming of the 
Alamo — Surrender — Barbarity of Santa Anna — Death of Crockett . 345-372 

CHAPTER XY. 
GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. 

Early Settlement of Texas — The Austins — Difficulties Begetting the Colonists — 
Death of the Elder Austin — Lafitte, the Pirate — Stephen F. Austin — The 
Fredonia Trouble — Murder of Hunter — Houston's Early Life — Serves with 
Jackson in the Creek War — Severe Wounds — High Honors — Governor of Ten- 
nessee — Sudden and Unaccountable Departure — Colonel Bowie — A Fisrht on 
a Sand-bar — Search for Silver Mines — Attacked by the Indians — President 
Santa Anna — Austin's Mission to Mexico — Imprisonment and Trial for Treason 
— Released — War Approaching — Houston Made Commander-in-Chief— Siege 
of the Alamo by the Texans — The Grass Fight — Storming of the Alamo — Death 
of Colonel Travis — Death of Colonel Bowie — Goliad — Brutal Massacre of the 
Prisoners — Battle of San Jacinto — Ignominious Capture of General Santa 
Anna — Acknowledges the Independence of Texas — Houston Elected President 
— Death of Austin — Mexican Raids — Snively Expedition — Texas Enters the 
United States — Houston Elected U. S. Senator — Opposes Secession — Resigns 
Office of Governor— Death 373-403 

CHAPTER XVI. 
KIT CARSON. 
A Boy Hunter — In New Mexico — Surgery on the Plains — Trapping — Indian Horse 
Thieves — Pursuit by Trappers — Indian Thieves Attacked Successfully — A Nar- 



Xll CONTENTS. 

row Escape — Pursuing the Horse Thief — Fight with Two Bears — Up a Tree — 
Fight with Indians — Carson Saves His Friend — A Duel with a Braggart — At- 
tack on Indians — Carson's Brave Generosity — Encounter with Mountain Lion 
— Another Indian Battle — The War Dance — Hunter for Bent's Fort — The 
Peacemaker — The Indian Wife — John C. Fremont — Exploring Expeditions — 
Incidents of the Journey — The Frenchmen's Jealousy of Carson — The Keturn 
— Carson Settles in New Mexico — On Another Trip with Fremont — Searching 
for the Imaginary — Crossing the Mountains — Dismal "Warnings — The Indian 
Guide Deserts — Severe Hardships — Accomplish the Passage — Carson Kescues 
Fremont — Fremont's Third Expedition — The Mexican War Threatens — ]Srf'\\ s 
from Home — Camp Attacked by Indians — Revenge — Destroying Indian Til- 
lage — Fremont Saves Carson — A Wary Old Warrior Foiled — Carson Sent to 
Washington — Meets Gen. Kearney, and Returns with Him — Severe Fight with 
Mexicans — A Heroic Journey — Close of the War — Fremont's Fourth Expedi- 
tion — Indian Horse Thieves Again — Saves Two Merchants from Desperadoes 
— A Captive in Indian Hands — Brigadier-General — Death . 404-448 

CHAPTEE XYII. 
GEN. WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 
A Tennesseean — Intended to be a Sailor — But Commissioned Lieutenant in the Army 
— Service in the South — Lafitte and His Pirates — An Encounter with Them — 
In St. Louis — An Indian Council — O'Fallon's Rashness — Race with an Indian 
— Another Race — How an Offender Escaped a Whipping, and Capt. Harney's 
Anger was Cooled by a Ducking — Black Hawk — The War — An Indian Vic- 
tory — A Reconnoissance — Defeat of Black Hawk — Capt. Harney's Marriage — 
To Florida — The Seminoles — Repulse of the Indians — Osceola — The Treaty 
Broken — Harney's Influence — A Treacherous Night Attack — Escape through 
the Woods — Useless Bloodhounds — Fight in the Everglades — End of the Florida 
War — The Mexican War — Rival Generals' Jealousies — Gallantry at Cerre 
Gordo — Brevetted Brigadier-General — Indian Troubles on the Borders — Bun- 
combe — In Oregon — Return to St. Louis — The Civil War Begins — Urged to 
Join the Confederate Army — Retired from Service — Member of the Indian 
Peace Commission 449-474 

CHAPTEE XVIII. 

GEN. GEORGE A CUSTER. 
Boyhood— A Cadet — Strict Discipline— "Walking Extras" — A Fair Fight — The 
OflScer of the Guard is Sent to the Guard House — Court-Martialed — Never 
Hears the Decision — A Reconnoissance — The Superior's Report — The Subordi- 
nate did the Work — His Reward — A Gallant Charge — The Boy General — Pop- 
ularity — A Runaway in Washington — Westward, Ho ! — Gen. Hancock's Expe- 
dition—The Birds are Flown— A Buffalo Hunt— The Buffiilo Escapes, and the 
Horse is Killed— Satanta— Custer's First Lessons in Indian Nature— The Attack 
on the Wagon-Train — Comstock, the Scout — The Kidder Massacre — Rapid 
Marching— Court-Martialed — Suspended— Restored by Request of OflScers — 
California Joe — Origin and Experiences — Condemned to the Torture — Saved 
— The Rescue of the White Girl — A Winter Campaign — March through the 
Snow-storm — Reconnoitering — The Attack on the Cheyenne Village — The 
Seventh Cavalry Congratulated — Custer Hurries up an Indian Moving — Rescue 
of Captives — Submission of the Indians— Ordered to the East— Buffalo Hunting 



CONTENTS. Xm 

with the Grand Duke— To tlie West Again— The Triangle Kide — A Fight — 
The Black Hills Expedition — Capture and Trial of Eain-in-the-Face — Custer 
Summoned to Washington — Executive Vengeance — The March to the Little 
Big Horn — Plan of Attack — More Than They Bargained For — Eeno's Kepulse* 
— Each Waiting for Help from the Other — No Help, No Hope — "We Have 
' Killed Them AU " 475-632 

CHAPTEE XIX. 
WILD BILL. 

Description — Learning to Shoot — His First Treasure — Shooting Wolves — To Kan- 
sas — Joins Lane's Company — Astonishes the Natives by His Marksmanship — 
Winning a Name — Farmer — Stage Driver — The Best Shot on the Plains — At- 
tack on Indians — Encounter with a Bear — Fight with the McCandlas Gang — 
Brigade Wagon-Master — In Disgrace — Eetrieval — Sharp-shooting at Pea Eidge 
• — A Spy — Entering the Confederate Lines Again — Daring Escape — A Spy 
Again — Discovered — In Prison — A Sleepy Guard — Burns His Bonds — How He 
Got Black Nell — A Mean Indian Trick — Duel with Conquering Bear — Fight 
with Four Men — Chief of Scouts — Kills Black Kettle — Wounded — A Lively 
Marshal of Hays City — Fight with Fifteen Soldiers — Escape, Terribly Wounded 
— A Plan for Making Money — Dead Broke — Marshal of Abilene — A Texan's 
Revenge — Jumping for Life — On the Stage — No Fun Allowed, so He Leaves in 
Disgust — The Black Hills — Marriage — In Deadwood — Foully Murdered — 
Wild Bill's Character — Trial and Execution of His Murderer . . 533-569 

CHAPTEE XX. 
BUFFALO BILL. 
Boyhood — The California Gold Fever — Kansas Troubles — A Hero for Imitation — 
Billings as a Bocarro — Saving his Father — A Fight at School — Herding — At- 
tacked by the Indians — Billy's First Eedskin — Defended by Wild Bill — A 
Breastwork of Dead Mules — A Broken Leg — Alone in the Dug-out— Saved by 
^^ain-in-the-Face — Pony Express Eider — Attack on theStage-Coach — The Horse 
Thieves' Den — Escape — One of Chandler's Gang — Scouting — Enlisted — Mar- 
riage — Hotel-Keeping — Scouting Again — Frightened Darkies — Half-Owner of 
a Town — The Town Moves and Cody Breaks — The Spunky Tenth Cavalry 
Again — Employed as Hunter — Four Thousand Two Hundred Buffalos in Eigh- 
teen Months— A I^ace for Life — At Bay— The Fire Signal— A BufHilo-Killing 
Match — Comstock Badly Beaten — "How, How!" — Indian Humor — Which Bill 
Does'nt Appreciate — A Trustworthy Messenger — Flight — Bringing Meat into 
Camp — Breaking in a New Lieutenant — The Fifth Cavalry Victorious — Shoot- 
ing Tall Bull — Justice Cody — Eastern Hunting Parties — An Imperial Pupil — 
How the Grand Duke Killed his First Buffalo — On the Stage — Member of the 
Legislature — Success as an Actor — Scouting Again — The Cheycnnes Leave 
their Eeservation — But the Fifith Cavalry Induces them to Eeturn — Cody En- 
gages an Indian in Single Combat — "The First Scalp for Custer" — Later Ser- 
vices 570—616 

CHAPTEE XXI. 
MODEEN INDIAN FIGHTEES AND WAi^S. 
Causes of an Indian War — The Minnesota Massacre — Extent of the Outbreak — Death 
of Little Crow — Fetterman's Fate — Comstock the Scout—" Ef I Know Any- 
thing; it's Injuns" — Surprised — His Death — Their Eeasons for the Murder — The 



IV CONTENTS. 

Modoc War — Captain Jack and the Commissioners — Murder of Gen. Canby — 
The Lava Beds — Execution of Capt. Jack and his Accomplices — The Bloody 
Centennial Year — Battle on the Eosebud — Gen. Merritt — Gen. Miles — Sitting 
Bull's Cheek — A Winter Campaign — Cold Marching and Hot Fighting — Yel- 
lowstone Kelly — The Nez Perce Campaign — A Chief who Got Tired — Resting 
on the Reservation — The Ute Outbreak — Maj. Thornburgh and his Men — Capt. 
Payne. ' 616-648 

CHAPTEE XXII. 
APACHE OUTBREAKS. 
Tough Tribe — Gen. Crook in Arizona — The Chiricahuas — Pursuit — Surprise — 
Promises — The Prisoners — Praise — Blame — Promises Fulfilled — Fate of Charlie 
McComas — Causes of 1885 Outbreak — Mode of Warfare — The Leader — Attack- 
ed by the Cowboys — Geronimo's Nine Lives — Captain Crawford — Attacked by 
Friends — The Death of Crawford — Avenging the Captain — Escape of the Hos- 
tiles — The Conference with Gen. Crook — An Indian Joke — Gen. Miles — Re- 
moval of the Chiricahuas — Surrender of Geronimo — Removal from the Reser- 
vation 649-672 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Cusiei''s Last Rally on the Little Big Horn Full Pago, Frontispiece. 

The Pioneer Settler Title Vignette. 

Ferdinand I)e Soto l-^ 

Spaniards Enslamng Indians 25 

Repelling the Landing Full Paire, 27 

Anihashinq Spaniards 30 

De Soto's March 83 

The Fight at Mobile ; '^^ 

Discovery of the Mississippi Full I'ngo, 40 

Lidia7i Fleet Meeting De Soto 41 

Burial of De Soto 44 

Departure of the Spaniards Full Pago, 45 

Jacques Cartier 47 

Samuel De Cha-inplain 50 

Champlain Takes the War Path Full Page, 56 

Jesuit Missionary Preaching to the Indians 03 

Marquette Descending the Mississippi 65 

Monso's Visit 74 

Assassination of La Salle - 80 

Captain John Smith, 83 

Building of Jamestown 86 

Smith Surprised by the Savages -'O 

Smith Saved by Pocahontas 93 

Desperate Fight With the Chief of the Pashiphays 99 

Pocahontas 103 

Pocahontas Presented at Court 107 

Destruction of a Virginia Settlement. 108 

Landing of the Pilgi-ims 116 

First Church in New England 119 

Samoset's Visit v 121 

Winslow's Visit to Massasoit Full Page, 123 

Sending Back the Snake-skin Full Page, 128 

Standish's Fight With Pecksnot Full Page, 133 

Ambushing Settlers Full Page, 139 

A Narrow Bridge to Victory 142 

Death of Kitig Philip Full Page, 144 

Puritan Settler Defending His Home Full Page, 146 

''Shoot I tell you J" 148 

Putnam in the Wolfs Cave 151 

Taking Captives Full Page, 154 

General Israel Putnam 159 

Putnam Tormented 165 

Indian Squaw Betraying Pontiac's Consph'acy 169 

Pontiac's Visit to Major Gladwin 170 

Putjiam's Flight Down the Rocks at Horseneck 173 

Pontiac 174 

Killiyig of Pontiac 175 

The Council on a Tree 187 

Brady's Leap 190 

Daniel Boone .194 

Capture of Boone and Stewart 195 

General Clarke Rejecting the Peace Belt Full Page, 201 



XVI LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Indians Attacking Booneshorough 203 

Boone^s Indian Toilet 205 

Boone Pursued by the Indians Full Page, 211 

Women Getting Water for the Fort 215 

Arrival of Reinforcements 217 

The Tobacco Stratagem 221 

TheHuHfe?-'s Paradise Full Page, 223 

The Grave of Boone ...226 

Kenton Rescuing Boo?ie 230 

Kenton's Mazeppa Ride 233 

Desperate Effort to Escape ......235 

Simon Girty, the Renegade 239 

Lewis Wetzel Loading While Running — '■^ Him, gun always loaded"..... 249 

WetzeVs Escape from the Guard Full Page, 255 

Jacob Wetzel Saved by his Dog 258 

A7idy Poe's Fight with Bigfoot Full Page, 261 

McCulloch's Leap 265 

An Indian's First Introduction to the Manly Art 269 

The Death Tortures of Col. William Crawford 276 

An Indian Council Full Page, 281 

Slaughtenng Her Captors 286 

The White Squaw's Shot Full Page, 295 

A Pioneer Woman's Defense of Her Hojne Full Page, 300 

A Frontier Hero and Heroine 303 

The Osages' Father-in-law.. '. 306 

A Close Shave 310 

Killing the Thief. 316 

General Wm. H. Har7-ison 322 

Elskwatnwa, '' The Prophet" 325 

Tecumseh 331 

The Prophet's Visit to General Han~ison Full Page, 332 

Death of Tecmnseh 841 

Tecumseh Rallying the Tribes 343 

David Crockett 349 

Crockett on the Stump 352 

Crockett's Fight with a Bear 355 

Shipwrecked on the River 359 

Crockett's First Buffalo Hunt 365 

Desperate Fight with a Cougar. .....366 

General Cos 367 

Storming of the Alamo 368 

Defense of the Alamo 369 

Death of Crockett Full Page, 371 

Monument to the Defenders of the Alamo 372 

Lafitte, the Pirate 376 

The Murder of Hunter 378 

Houston Wounded in the Creek War 380 

General Santa Anna 384 

A Texan Ranger. 387 

General Sam Houston 390 

Houston Dictating Orders 394 

Houston at San Jacinto 395 

The Finding of ''The Mighty and Glorious" 396 

Santa Anna Before Houston 397 

Surgery on the Plains , 405 

Christopher Carson , 407 

Indian Capturing Horses 408 

A Narrow Escape 410 

The Pursuit of the Horse Thief. 412 

A Fight With Grizzlies 41,3 

TheSmnmer Rendezvous Pull Page, 415 

Carson's Duel with the Braggart 417 

Defending a Fallen Comrade 419 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. XVH 

Indian War Dance j^l 

A Pawnee Chief in Full Costume 425 

Carson's House at Taus ^^^ 

Fremont Rescued by Carson ■4^",VVi for 

Indians Discovcnng the Train I^uH Ps^ge, 435 

The Stealthy Night Attack Full Page, 436 

Carson Saved by Fremont ^"iV'-d f^i 

Mexican Towns Surrenderhig to General Kearney Full Page, 441 

Gen. John C. Fremont 445 

Gen. Wm. S. Harney • • 450 

Harney's Race with the Indian 4o3 

Another Race and a Cold Bath 454 

Black Hawk 457 

Osceola 460 

A Treaty of War 462 

Billy Boivlegs i-466 

In the Everglades 468 

Ge7i. Winfield S. Scott 471 

Gen. Geo. A. Custer •^••VrV> aH 

Indians Viewing the Pacific Railroad Full 1 age, 483 

Hunter Charged by Buffalo ..., Full Page, 486 

Custer's Interview with Pawnee Killer 489 

The Evening Concert Full Page, 491 

The Attack on the Wagon Train Full Page, 493 

The Work of Devils Full Page, 496 

Gen. Philip H. Sheridan 498 

California Joe ^^-' 

The Surpnse of the Cheyenne Village Full Page, 507 

The Messenger of Defeat ^09 

Custer's Indian Scouts Celebrating Victory Full Page, 510 

Satanta Full Page, 512 

Lone Wolf Head Chief of the Kiowas Full Page, 513 

A BufaloHunt • 516 

The Triangle Ride Full Page, 518 

Capture of Rain-in-the-Face 522 

Rain-in-the-Face Full Page, 625 

Sitting Bull 528 

" We have killed them alU"— The Messetiger of Victory 530 

Temporary Monument on the Site of Custe7'''s Last Fight Full Page, 631 

Wild Bill Shooting Wolves 534 

Wild Bill {J. B. Hlckok) a 537 

Wild Bill's Fight with the Bear 539 

Fight with the McCandlas Gang 541 

Taking to the Water 545 

Killing the Sleeping Sentinel 549 

Conquering Bear 553 

Spoiling for a Fight 555 

^^ Ain't you satisfied?" 557 

Wild Bill's Fight xvith Fifteen Soldiers 561 

The Murder of Wild Bill 568 

Billy Kills His First Indian 575 

Departure of the Stages Full Page, 680 

T/ie Attack on the Stage Full Page, 581 

Escaping from the Horse Thieves 584 

After the Surprise • 588 

Buffalo Bill I W. F. Cody) 591 

''Keep off!" A Center Shot 594 

Railroad Train Encountering a Herd of Buffaloes Full Page, 597 

"How, how!" ". 599 

Buffalo Bill and his Horse Brigham Full Page, 602 

Making Buffaloes Fuimish their Own Transportation 603 

The Shooting of Tall Bull 606 

"Lookout!" .....607 



XVlll LIST OP ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Showing the Grand Duke how to Kill Buffaloes, 609 

An Arrow Through a Buffalo 611 

Texas Jack {J. B. Omohmidro) 612 

The First Scalp for Custer 615 

Massacre of Minnesota Settlers .Full Page, 616 

The Ideal Indian 617 

The Real Article 618 

Gen. H.H.Sibley 620 

A Dakota Chief. 622 

Conference between U.S. Conwnissionejs and Indians 624 

Onthe War-path Full Page, 626 

Ge7i. Sturgis, the Famous Indian Fighter. 627 

Gen. E.R.S. Canby ...._. 628 

Massacre of Peace Commissioners by Modocs Full Page, 629 

The Modoc Stronghold Full Page, 631 

Captain Jack 632 

The Pight in the Lava Beds - Full Page, 633 

Hooker Jim 635 

Schonchin 635 

Boston Charley 635 

Shack Nasty Jim 635 

Gen. C.H. Crook 636 

The Battle on the Rosebud Full Page, 637 

An Oasis in the Desert Full Page, 640 

The Indiaji Camp 641 

Gen. Wesley Mcrritt, Colonel of the 5th U. S. Cavalry 644 

Gen. O. O. Howard 645 

Capt. D. L. Payne 646 

Death of Major Thornburgh Full Page, 647 

Emigrants Defending Thetnseloes against an Indian Attack 650 

Treating for Peace with Gen. Crook 652 

Swrender of the Chiricahuas and their Captives Full Page, 653 

Charlie McComas 654 

Geronimo, War Chief of the Apaches 656 

Apaches on a Raid Full Page, 659 

Capt. Crawford 661 

'^ Dutchy," the Avenger of Capt. Crawford's Death 665 

Gen. Nelson A. Miles 669 

Apaches Scalping Soldiers 670 



PIONEEE HEEOES 

AND 

DARING DEEDS. 



-0~ 



CHAPTER I. 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 

THE little walled town of Xeres, one hundred and thirty- 
miles southwest of Madrid, is like plenty of other Si:)anish 
towns, though it would look strange to our eyes. Around its 
walls rise hills on which are built 
the strong, rude castles of the 
old nobility ; fallen into ruins 
now, and not far from that three 
hundred years ago. In one of 
the oldest and most ruinous of 
these was born, in the year 1500, 
a boy, who was named Ferdi- 
nand de Soto. A poor Spaniard 
is the proudest man on the face 
of the earth, and his pride grows 
with the growth of his poverty. 
The parents of this boy had noble 
blood and the old castle; he 
could not be allowed to engage 
in any kind of work, for that would be a disgrace to his family; 
so he grew up in honorable idleness. 

So poor was the elder De Soto that he could not afford to edu- 
cate his son in accordance with his rank. We can imagine the life 
which the boy led ; taught, perhaps, by some old servant the manly 
accomplishments in which he became proficient at an early age. 
His natural advantages were very great, and the tall, well-formed, 




FERDINAND DE SOTO. 



20 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 

active, handsome youth seemed to have a natural aptitude for 
horsemanship, fencing, and other necessary acquirements of the 
time. Such was the beauty of his person and the grace and 
dignity of his bearing that the young De Soto attracted the at- 
tention of a wealthy nobleman, Don Pedro Arias de Avila, and 
was by him adopted, and sent to be educated at one of the Spanish 
universities. When this happened, he was seventeen years old ; 
old enough to have acquired considerable skill in riding and fenc- 
ing, and literary culture was not necessary for a nobleman. Such 
was the progress, as shown in frequent tournaments, that he was 
soon regarded as one who was likely to become the mirror of 
knighthood. 

While De Soto was still at the university, his patron had been 
appointed governor at Darien, whence, in 1519, he returned to 
Spain to arrange his affairs for a longer stay. His adopted son 
was very useful to him in many ways, and was treated like a be- 
loved child. De Avila, however, really considered him as little 
more than a beggar living on his bounty, and when, a few months 
after his return, the young man asked the hand of his second 
daughter, Donna Isabella, his rage was equalled only by his as- 
tonishment. He answered contemptuously, and dismissed it from 
his mind. But his daughter threatened to retire into a convent ; 
De Avila knew that she had inherited from him a strong will and 
unyielding spirit; so he resolved to defeat the youthful lovers by 
strategy. 

De Soto had retired to his father's ruined castle, there to med- 
itate upon his failure and its causes. He was of as noble a family 
as Donna Isabella, and had the education and bearing of a gen- 
tleman; his moral character was unspotted — far better than De 
Avila's own. The one thing lacking was wealth. For this had 
his suit been rejected with contempt ; riches should be the object 
of his ambition. When a man proposes this as the end of all his 
work, when every effort is bent to the achievement of this pur- 
pose, he becomes — what De Soto became. 

Casting about for some scheme which should prevent Donna Isa- 
bella's marrying this penniless young nobleman, or burying her- 
self in a convent, De Avila at first decided that ho would have the 
suitor assassinated. But De Soto's death by such means would 
drive her to desperation as surely as anything that his ingenuity 
could devise. With the cunning for which he was notorious, he hit 
upon a plan which was satisfactory. De Soto had determined that 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 21 

the wealth of the newly discovered continent was the best source 
at which to enrich himself, and would have offered his services to 
the captain of one of the many expeditions that were being fitted 
out; but he had no means to obtain the necessary outfit. To De 
Avila he would not go, and from no other source could he ob- 
tain help. 

In the midst of his perplexity, a most unexpected offer came. 
The crafty old Spaniard, well knowing what dangers could be 
thrust as honors upon his subordinates, proffered a captain's 
commission and outfit to oiir hero, with the prospect of acquiring 
unlimited wealth in the proposed invasion of Peru. Yet he 
worded his invitation so courteously as to make De Soto feel 
that his knightly prowess was the reason why it was given, and 
that his expected services would be of great value. Arrived at 
Darien, DeSoto was constantly employed upon the most danger- 
ous missions. De Avila had reversed the policy of his predeces- 
sor in office, Balboa, who had won the hearts of the Indians, al- 
ways disposed to treat Europeans well j and had inflicted the 
greatest cruelties imaginable upon the gentle and unoffending 
natives. His underlings were encouraged in all kinds of wanton 
barbarity; and the cruelty which in Spain fed upon the blood of 
heretics, in the New World hunted down the Indians as if they 
had been wild beasts. Torn limb from limb by blood-hounds, 
mutilated by the axe, burned at the stake — such were the pun- 
ishments inflicted upon them for the atrocious crime of being 
American aborigines. 

De Soto had resolved to become rich, at any cost but his hon- 
or ; this he could not sacrifice, and often he must disobey the or- 
ders of the governor. One instance out of many, say his contem- 
porary historians, has come down to us. Don Pedro had re- 
solved, for some trifling reason, that a certain Indian village 
should be destroyed, and sent Capt. Perez, a man after his own 
heart, to De Soto, with orders for the latter to proceed against 
it with his troops. The village was to be burned, and every liv- 
ing creature in it put to the sword. The messenger was per- 
mitted to detail the whole plan of procedure; when he had fin- 
ished, De Soto, who felt such a commission an insult, answered : 

" Tell the governor that my life and services are always at his 
disposal when the duty to be performed is such as may become a 
Christian and a gentleman. But in the present case, Capt. Perez, 
I think that Don Pedro would have shown more discretion by 



22 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 

intrusting you with this commission, instead of sending you with 
the order to myself.'' 

Don Pedro heard the answer with joy — it was just what he de- 
sired. With a grim smile, he said to the messenger, who was a 
noted duelist, never failing to kill his antagonist : 

"Well, my friend, if you, who area vigorous young soldier, 
can patiently endure De Soto's insolence, I see no reason why an 
infirm old man like myself should not show equal forbearance." 

Stung to the quick by this taunt, the fiery Spaniard lost no 
time in challenging his comrade. The duel was then the recog- 
nized way of deciding any quarrel between gentlemen, and this 
took place in the presence of all the ofiicers and soldiers of the 
colony. Contrary to general expectation, De Soto succeeded in 
disarming his antagonist, and although the latter was silent when 
the victor bade him ask for his life, spared him, sheathing his 
sword with the remark : 

"A life that is not worth asking for is not worth taking." 

Perez, ashamed of being thus defeated by a stripling, who had 
as yet attained but little fame as a soldier, threw up his commis- 
sion and went back to Spain. 

De Soto continued to preserve his self-respect, even though it 
taught him to despise his superior officers. A man of his discern- 
ment could not help seeing that they were a disgrace to the 
country which they represented, and the chivalrous young ad- 
venturer took no pains to conceal his contempt. De Avila's 
hatred for him increased, and the young captain was warned 
solemnly by a friendly astrologer, whose life he had saved, that 
the utmost caution would be necessary if he would avoid a dis- 
graceful death. This friend, who was suspected of dealing in 
magic, professed to gather his information from the stars, but the 
probability is that he only betrayed the confidence of the governor. 
De Avila dare not persecute his enemy too openly, however ; 
both because of the effect which it would have on his daughter, 
and because he felt that one more abuse of his power might be 
fatal. But an honorable death in battle, he determined, should be 
the young man's fate. De Soto felt the danger to which he was 
exposed; so far as the object of his coming to the New World 
was concerned, he had failed ; he could not acquire wealth, as his 
companions did, by murder and robbery ; for five years he had 
held no communication with Donna Isabella, their letters having 
been intercepted by De Avila. As the term of the governor's 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 23 

authority drew to a close, since his successor was on his way to 
America, De Soto even received sentence of death for opposing 
the execution of an innocent man, but fortunately for our story, 
was pardoned by the new ruler. He had before this been urged 
by Pizarro tojoin an exploring expedition of which the latter 
was commander, but had refused, not choosing to submit himself 
to this base-born adventurer. Nor was the character of Pizarro's 
followers such as to tempt a man of knightly renown and truth 
to his standard. They never, on tlieir earlier expeditions, made 
an attack, except where the hope of plunder was the obvious 
inducement and there was but little danger of resistance. But 
De Soto wished to escape from the dangerous neighborhood of 
De Avila, who was now governor of Mcaragua ; he had been 
employed in various exploring expeditions, but in spite of being 
ten years and more in this new country, he had not become any 
wealthier. But the long association with these men had weaken- 
ed his moral sense ^ he had played with pitch and been defiled. 
Pizarro, determining upon another expedition, offered him a po- 
sition second only to his own, and the offer was accepted. With 
his characteristic independence, however, De Soto did not 
hesitate to reject orders which were contrary to his sense of pru- 
dence or of right. Pizarro readily ignored this insubordination, 
as he was by no means brave enough to quarrel with any but 
helpless persons. 

The conquest of Peru was a series of dreadful massacres, com- 
mitted without provocation upon a peaceful and heljjless people. 
How much part De Soto took in this so-called war cannot now 
be determined ; the Spanish historians endeavor to cover up the 
crimes of their countrymen with excuses, and to increase the 
glory of the leader by every possible means ; it is probable that 
De Soto was, to some extent, an innocent tool in the hands of 
Pizarro and his brothers. His manly bearing, his open and hon- 
orable candor, his personal appearance, all doubtless contributed 
to increase the trust of the too credulous Peruvians in the good 
intentions of the Spaniards. Whatever repugnance he may have 
had to their acts of cruelty, he continued to be one of their num- 
ber; and although he endeavored to lessen the ransom of the 
unfortunate Inca as far as lay in his power, he did not hesitate 
to accept his share, which amounted to a sum equal to more than 
a quarter-million dollars of our money. Let us do him the just- 
ice, however, to record that the perfidious murder of the monarch 



24 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 

took place during his absence on an errand that Pizarro devised 
for the purpose, and that, on his return, his anger was real, his 
disgust sincere. 

Let us pass rapidly over the remainder of this time, when he 
was the lieutenant of a man who never hesitated to defraud or 
deceive any one about him. The plan was carried out, and Peru 
obliged to submit to the ruffian Spaniard. But in Spain, at least, 
it was known that De Soto was the only one of the invading force 
that could be called a hero j that without his courage and pru- 
dence the expedition would have been the most miserable of fail- 
ures. Returning to his transatlantic home, he found that his 
reputation had preceded him, and he was everj^where received 
with the most flattering distinction. All classes looked upon him 
as the model of what a man should be. His dearest hope was 
fulfilled in his union with Donna Isabella, and the happy couple 
were received at court with the highest marks of favor. As a re- 
ward for his services, the king conferred upon him the title of 
Marquis, and his society was sought by the most distinguished 
nobles of the land. His style of living was in accordance with 
the extent of his newly acquired fortune ; indeed, such magnifi- 
cence reigned in the mansion which he had bought that, after 
living two years in Seville, he found that one-half of his wealth 
was gone. 

He thereupon determined to embark upon another adventure 
of a similar character. The Spaniards laid claim to North as 
well as to South America j those few who had returned from a pre- 
vious expedition under De Narvaez had given glowing accounts 
of the immense treasures of Florida, as the whole region north of 
the Gulf of Mexico was called. The adventurers had told also of 
the character of the natives , the Indians in the southern latitudes 
they had found peaceful and unresisting ; these were fierce and 
powerful. De Soto's brave soul had revolted at the sight of the 
atrocious cruelties practiced upon the unoffending and defense- 
less Indians of the south; these sterner natives of the north 
would be foemen more worthy of such a conquerer as himself. 
Hoping to find both gold and glory in Florida, he requested per- 
mission from the king to undertake the conquest at his own ex- 
pense. As he did not desire any aid from the royal treasury, 
his proposition was readily assented to, and he was created Gov- 
ernor of Cuba and President of Florida. 

He had no difficulty in obtaining recruits. Aside from the 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 



25 



hopes of wealth in which all indulged, it would be an honor to 
serve under so distinguished a commander. His own position 
was such that the Spaniards thought success assured, since he 
risked the glorious reputation and immense wealth which he had 
already acquired. They flocked to his standard from all sides ; 
property was sacrificed to procure suitable outfits; one man, it 
is recorded, had to take his wife with him, since there was noth- 
ing left to maintain her. So great was the number that it was 
impossible for all to go, and some who had sold their estates for 
their equipment were obliged to remain at home. De Soto select- 
ed for his companions six hundred ; according to some authori- 




SPANIARDS ENSLAVINO INDIANS. 



ties, a thousand of the aspirants; and in the early part of April, 
1538, they embarked in ten ships for the El Dorado that they ex- 
pected to find. Donna Isabella refused to be again separated 
from him by the broad Atlantic, and accompanied the expedition 
as far as Havana. 

Some time was spent in Cuba, in feasting and merry-making. 
An old and wealthy Cuban, who was anxious to obtain a number 
of Indians as slaves to work his mines, was made lieutenant, in 
place of Nuno de Tobar, whom De Soto deprived of his ofiice. 
Here, too, they obtained a supply of excellent horses, the island 
having been well stocked 'with these animals by the first settlers. 



26 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 

"All went merry as a marriage-bell," and although the previous 
expeditions had all been extremely unfortunate, no one dreamed 
but that this would be crowned with the most brilliant success. 

Setting sail from Havana May 18, 1538, the voyage was so pro- 
longed by contrary winds that it was a week before they came in 
sight of the coast of Florida, Two leagues from the shore they 
dro2:)ped anchor, the shallow water preventing a nearer approach. 
They already began to see the difficulties which would surround 
them ; for beacon-fires kindled upon the beach by the natives 
gave the Indians farther off intelligence of their coming. The 
earlier explorers had been received by the aborigines with the 
greatest kindness, and as in the other parts of America which the 
Spaniards had settled, had been treated with the most wanton 
cruelty. Less forgiving than their southern brethren, the most 
deeply injured chief became the implacable enemy of the white 
man. Their countrymen had sown the wind, and the history of 
the next four years shows how De Soto and companions reaped 
the whirlwind. 

The Indians soon gathered upon the shore, and with hostile 
demonstrations showed their evident purpose of opposing the 
disembarkation of the troops; so De Soto, not choosing to come 
into collision with the natives immediately, gave orders to pro- 
ceed about two leagues farther up the bay (Tampa), and land 
there. This was in what is now known as Hillsboro bay, a 
branch of that more important one on the western coast of the 
present state of Florida already mentioned. 

It seems hardly possible that De Soto, after his exj)eriences in 
Central and South America, should not have known why the In- 
dians did not receive him and his followers as they had received 
his predecessors in the work of exploration. Such seems to be 
the case, however ; for when, after they had proceeded about 
ten miles inland, two or three fugitive Indians were captured and 
brought to him, and told him, in reply to his questions, of the 
inhumanities practiced by De ISTarvaez, he saw, for the first time, 
if we may believe the chroniclers, a new and unfailing source of 
danger. He endeavored, however, to propitiate the chief, TJcita, 
who had received such great injuries — the mutilation of his per- 
son, and murder of his mother, — and loading these captives with 
presents, sent them with friendly messages to their chief. 

"Bring me no speeches or promises from these men," exclaim- 
ed the justly indignant savage; "I want only their heads!" 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 



27 




28 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 

Be Soto knew the power of TJcita, and the strength of his tribe ; 
he knew that this chief must be concilated by every means in his 
power ; that if it were necessary for the Spaniards to retreat to 
their ships, they ought not to have such an enemy between them 
and the sea. But Ucita received all the messages and presents 
sent him as he had received the first. 

Do Soto had been especially unfortunate in his choice of a lieu- 
tenant whose object was so far at variance with his own. The 
Cuban, Yasco Porcallo, however, soon desired to retire from the 
service, and was permitted to do so. He was greatly offended at 
what he considered Ucita's unreasonable obstinacy in returning 
the presents of the Spaniards and refusing to hold friendly inter- 
course with them, and requested permission to punish the cacique. 
Having received De Soto's approval of the undertaking, he made 
all the preparations which he considered necessary for his pur- 
pose, boasting that he would bring with him, when he returned, 
the insolent chief and as many of his people as could be conveni- 
iently transported to Cuba. Arraying himself in a suit of glitter- 
ing armor, and mounting a very fine horse, he set out, at the head 
of his troop of horsemen, in a style befitting a knight going to a 
tournament. His ardor, whether arising from his anger at the 
chief or his desire of obtaining slaves, so hastened him onward 
that his followers were scarcely able to keep up with him. Coming 
to the edge of a bog, they remonstrated with him, telling him 
that it was impassable for horsemen as heavily accoutered as 
they were. But he would not listen to them, and to prove that 
they were wrong dashed into the morass. Here his steed strug- 
gled and plunged for a few minutes, and then fell so that Por- 
callo's leg was caught under the animal's body. Deeper and 
deeper they sank, and although the danger was imminent, the 
soldiers did not attempt to restrain their merriment. At length 
he crawled out, his shining armor encrusted with a thick coat of 
black slime, and the fire of his courage completely quenched. Ee- 
signing his commission, he left behind him all the hopes of win- 
ning new laurels and acquiring a new source of wealth, and 
went back to Cuba to mourn over the loss of his expensive outfit. 

A slave-Wnting expedition of Porcallo's had, however, proved 
very fortunate ; not indeed to himself, but to the little army. It 
had resulted in their meeting with a Spaniard of the party of De 
^arvaez, one Juan Ortiz, who had been captured and condemned 
to death by Ucita, but by the aid of the cacique's daughter, 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 29 

had escaped to the more merciful prince to whom she was be- 
trothed. Through him, his friend, the cacique Mocoso, became 
theirs, and later provided them with a guide. 

Being ready to penetrate still farther into the heart of the 
country, the ships were sent back to Cuba. The reason for such 
action has been questioned very often ; one solution offered being 
that De Soto desired to show his men that there was no hope of 
return. We can easily account for it in this way, without sup- 
jDosing that they needed such a s^Dur; he could not leave enough 
men to defend the vessels without seriously crippling his force, and 
if left unguarded, they would be destroyed by the Indians. Care- 
fully calculating the time that would probably be required for 
the proposed jonrne}", he despatched the ships to Cuba with di- 
rections to return with a supply of provisions and other neces- 
saries at the expiration of that period. 

"With the guide furnished by Mocoso, a small party was de- 
spatched northward to explore the country. About seventeen 
leagues to the north of the main camp, they came upon an Indian 
village, the inhabitants of which had heard of their coming, and 
taken to the woods in terror. A deputation soon arrived from 
the cacique, offering any service in their power. Don Balthasar 
Gallegos, the leader, put the messengers in chains, to show his 
appreciation of the kindness shown him, and required them to 
inform him where he could find a land abounding in gold and 
silver. The crafty natives made reply that far to the northwest 
was a land of everlasting summer, and of inestimable wealth ; 
that the people there wore hats or helmets of gold ; and similar 
stories. Incredible as they appear to us, the Spaniards accepted 
these tales as true, and Gallegos hastily despatched eight of his 
men to take the news to De Soto. To use the words of the Port- 
uguese narrator who is one of the chief authorities for this histo- 
ry : " De Soto and all his soldiers were very much comforted 
by the assurance that their toils were about to be rewarded by 
the discovery df another Peru." As the toils increased, the "com- 
fort" diminished. 

De Soto determined to follow Gallegos immediately, and leav- 
ing Captain Calderon with a troop of forty men to protect the 
ships on their return, set out with the main body of the army. 
But ho met with many difficulties. Mocoso, the only chief at all 
fi'iendly to the Spaniards, refused to furnish guides ; the conduct 
of Gallegos had stirred up a violent opposition from the Indians; 



30 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 



and by these the difficulties of the way were considerably in- 
creased. Eiishing out from the thickets by which the Spaniards 
passed, the nimble Indians would discharge a flight of arrows in- 
to the ranks of the white men, and return to the shelter from 
which they had emerged before the clumsier soldiers could lay 
hold of their weapons. Many of De Soto's men were killed and 
wounded by these sudden assailants. 

The morasses so common in that part of Florida oifered an- 
other serious difficulty. A short time after meeting with Galle- 
gos and his party, they came to Long Swamp, as it is now called, 
more than a league in breadth. After searching for several days 
for a path which would lead across it, they built rafts, but were 
two days in crossing. Mounted men were sent ahead to find 
some practicable pathway through the untraveled wilderness, 

but were often killed by Indians, 
who shot their fatal arrows from 
the shelter of trees. Several pris- 
oners were taken, and compelled 
to act as guides, but were more faith- 
ful to their people than to their ea])- 
tors; purposely misleading them, 
and then pretending to have mis- 
taken their way. Angry at the de- 
ception, the Spaniards delivered 
two or three of them to the blood- 
hounds; but they died bravely, re- 
gretting, like an American of later 
date, that each " had but one life to 
give for his country," 

Having crossed a second morass, 

and a sluggish stream, where they 

lost, by the Indian arrows, some 

men who were engaged in repairing 

a bridge that had been destroyed 

to delay them, they took several 

prisoners, of the tribe of the cacique 

of Acuera. Be Soto treated these 

with much kindness, and sent them 

AMBusmNG SPANIARDS. with prcscuts to propose a treaty to 

their cacique. The chief replied that with such as the Spaniards 

he wished to be always at war, and that the only kindness they 




FERDINAND DE SOTO. 31 

could do him or his people was to leave the country. In this he 
persisted, notwithstanding De Soto's earnest efforts to conclude a 
peace with him. Threats were added to his refusal, and the army 
was seriously annoyed during the twenty days which they stayed 
on the edge of his territory, fourteen Spaniards being killed. The 
Indians could not be drawn into an open battle, and De Soto, seeing 
that the loss was all on his side and would before long seriously im- 
pair his strength, withdrew to Ocala, forty miles farther north. 
The village, the largest they had yet seen, was deserted. They 
had hoped to find provisions here, but were disappointed. They 
had consumed their whole stock of food and were sorely pressed 
by hunger. They soon found themselves, however, in a country 
that by its appearance promised better things. Extensive corn 
fields gave them hopes of abundant food for themselves, their 
horses and the drove of hogs they had brought; the ground was 
firm, no morasses appearing, and the way no longer lay through 
thick forests. But still they met with the same opposition on 
the part of the natives, who very naturally distrusted the coun- 
trymen of those who had, years before, used them so cruelly. 
Nor did this feeling confine its expression to threats. 

One cacique, Vitacucho, invited the Spaniards to visit him, and 
for some time entertained them with every care which hospitality 
could command ; having plotted a massacre when the Spaniards 
should be completely off their guard. Four of De Soto's Indian 
interpreters were intrusted with the secret, and the fact that they 
betrayed their countrymen to him shows that he must have treated 
them with something of kindness. De Soto feigned ignorance of 
the plan, however, and trusted to his own address to save his 
men. 

"When Yitacucho had arranged everything to his satisfaction, 
he invited De Soto to witness a display of his forces. The gov- 
ernor accepted this invitation — he could not well do otherwise, — 
and, under pretense of showing the greater respect to the chief, 
ordered his soldiers to appear completely armed as if for battle. 
The cacique liked this as little as De Soto liked the invitation, 
but, like him, could make no objection. With the appearance of 
the closest friendship the two commanders walked side by side to 
the field where the two armies were drawn up. 

Several thousand warriors, young and athletic men, with nod- 
ding plumes of the swan and heron that made them look like 
giants, were placed between an impervious thicket on one hand 



32 FERDINAND DZ SOTO. 

and two small lakes on the other. Ther appeared to be unarmed, 
as thej had hidden their bows and arrows in the grass. Opposite 
these was formed the Spanish infantry, the cavalry being between 
the two armies which were on foot. Vitacucho gave the signal 
agreed upon, and the Indians snatched up their arms to rush upon 
the Spaniards. But De Soto's men had had instructions how to act, 
and the twelve who were in immediate attendance upon himself 
seized the cacique and bound him securely. The governor, 
springing upon his horse, would have charged upon the natives 
with that headlong valor for which he was famous, but a shower 
of arrows killed his steed. Mounting a second one, the furious 
assault which he led soon broke the Indians' line of battle, and 
they fled in confusion. Some of them plunged into the lakes, 
and from under the broad leaves of the water-lilies which grew 
there in abundance, continued, for ten hours, to discharge ar- 
rows at the Spaniards. It must be remembered that this is the 
account of the Spanish historians, who always shield their coun- 
trymen at the expense of the Indians. The more impartial Port- 
uguese narrators say that the interpreters who betrayed 
Vitacucho's confidence were unworthy of the trust which De 
Soto reposed in their statements, and that, on the field of battle, 
the cacique was seized before his men had made any hostile dem- 
onstration. Be this as it may, Yitacucho and many of his tribe 
were reduced to slavery, that was terminated by death, when, a 
week later, they attempted to regain their liberty. 

The Indians of this tribe and others had told them much of the 
difficulties which they had yet to encounter, and which De Xarvaez 
and his men had undergone in the very country through which 
they were soon to pass. Disheartened by these stories as well as 
by the death of so many of their companions, the Spaniards in- 
sisted upon returning to the place where they had disembarked, 
and abandoning the country as soon as the ships came from Ha- 
vana. Except De Soto himself, there was not a man in the army 
who was disposed to pursue the adventure any further. The gov- 
ernor was '•' a stern man, and of few words," but when once his 
mind was made up, he was inflexible. " You, who are so easily dis- 
couraged," he said, " may stay behind. You have never seen me 
shrink from the post of danger; and I will now advance, with 
two hundred men, or even a smaller number, and meet all the 
enemies that are likely to offer any opposition to our progress." 

They encamped for the winter at the head of the bay of Appa- 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 



33 



lachee, and from this point a message was despatched to Cuba, 
desiring that supplies might be sent thither early in the spring; 
and another after Captain Calderon and his troop. The shi^Ds 
had returned from Cuba in the meantime, bringing abundant 
supplies of all necessaries, and a letter to De Soto from his wife. 
This is of interest, urging him, as it does, to give up the adven- 
ture, if it must be prosecuted with the same cruelties which others 
had practised, and of which she had only heard since his depar- 
ture. "Not for all the riches of the country," she wrote, "would 



\Mr[ >^L 




DE SOTO S MAKCH. 



I have you commit one act, the remembrance of which would be 
painful to you hereafter." De Soto loved his wife, and wished to 
make her happy, but preferred to do this in his own way. He 
had invested all that remained of his fortune in equipping this 
expedition, and a failure would be utter ruin. In spite of her 
entreaties, then, as well as of the mutinous murmurs of his sol- 
diers, he determined to press forward to the land of gold. 

In March, 1540, the Spaniards left their winter quarters, and 
proceeded on their journey. "I will not turn back," the gov- 
ernor had said, "till I have seen the poverty of the country with 
"mine own eyes;" and his words stimulated his followers to 



34 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 

greater exertions and endurance. The Spaniards were now on 
the way to the gold fields of Georgia, which they had nearly 
reached when, for some reason, they turned aside. They had, at 
one point, been assured by their guide that they would reach 
the land of gold in four days, but after a nine days' journey it 
still mocked them. To increase their troubles, their stock of 
provisions, with which they had been supplied by a friendly 
cacique, was nearly consumed ; and their search for food was not 
always successful. The Indian trail, which they had heretofore 
followed, had failed them j and suffering intensely with hunger, 
they made their way slowly through the pathless forests, that 
seemed to stretch to the end of the world. At last, after endur- 
ing hardships beyond description, they came once more to a 
highly cultivated and open country. Two leagues farther on, 
they came in sight of an Indian town, which was situated on the 
farther side of a river. On the nearer bank they encamped, and 
here, seated in state on the margin of the river, De Soto received 
the Indians who crossed in canoes. These were men of rank and 
authority, and after a variety of salutations, demanded to be in- 
formed if the white men came for peace or war. The governor 
replied, as usual, that he wished to be at peace with the people 
of that country, and hoped to be supplied with provisions. They 
answered that the last crop had been unusually bad, and they 
had hardly enough for their own peojile ; but that they would 
inform the maidtm who was their ruler of this request; and re- 
embarking, they returned to the town. 

The news that this tribe was governed by a woman was re- 
ceived with joy by the Spaniards, for that was one point in the 
description which the Indians had given of the land of gold. 
When this princess, who was only about nineteen years old, vis- 
ited their camp in the course of a few hours, her personal adorn- 
ment confirmed their hopes ; so rich were her ornaments of pearls 
and gold. She rej^eated what had been said about the poor har- 
vest, but said that one of two magazines of corn, reserved for 
future exigencies, should be bestowed upon the strangers j and 
presented her necklace, of invaluable pearls, to the governor. 

Her generosity was rewarded in a truly Spanish way. Al- 
though '' treated with every mark of respect," she was strictly 
guarded in the midst of her own dominions — "a necessary meas- 
ure to keep her jieople in subordination to the Spaniards." The 
temples and tombs were sacked for the pearls to be found there. 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. S5 

the booty fi'om one mausoleum amounting to five hundred pounds 
in weight. This town, Cofachiqui, was probably situated at the 
junction of the Broad and Savannah rivers. So pleasant did the 
Spaniards find it that they desired to -settle there, but De Soto 
was determined to press on to the Peru of North America. For 
twenty years avarice had been his leading passion, and it was too 
strong for him now to resist it. 

The unhapj)y princess was obliged to accompany them when, 
on the third of May, 1540, they left Cofachiqui to proceed yet far- 
ther on their journey. She was compelled to call upon her sub- 
jects for all kinds of assistance for the explorers, especially to 
carry burdens from one place to another. But she finally con- 
trived to make her escape, and such was De Soto's chivalry, 
which had at last come to the surface, that he would not permit 
his men to pursue her. 

At a town called Chenalla, supposed to be the same as Qua- 
latche, at the source of the Chattahoochee, they again changed 
their course, turning towards the south-west. In the latter part 
of July they wer^ at Coosa, where, in the course of the season, 
they found the delicious wild grape which still abounds in Ala' 
bama. Received and well entertained for some time by the gi 
gantic chief Tuscaloosa, they offended him by their assuming 
authority, as usual, over him and his tribe. De Soto, after a rest 
at this village, prepared to resume his march, accompanied by 
the cacique. A Spanish guard had been given the Indian, under 
pretense of honoring him, and his satisfied manner and his con- 
tinued kindness led them to believe that he did not suspect that 
he was a prisoner. Their course was towards Mavilla (Mobile), 
a town under the government of a cacique tributary to Tusca- 
loosa. To this subject prince the chief, when they approached 
the town, sent orders to prepare a grand entertainmejit for the 
guests he would bring with him ; adding to this message a toker 
which would tell his real meaning. 

In conformity with the wishes of the cacique, the warriors be 
longing to the town wore mustered, arms were collected, and 
every possible preparation made for rescuing Tuscaloosa. As the 
Spaniards approached Mavilla, they were filled with astonish- 
ment at the strength of the fortifications, and with alarm at the bus- 
tle of preparations. Their fears were allayed, however, by the na- 
ture of their welcome, and when, after they had been conducted to 
the quarters provided for them, Tuscaloosa informed De Soto that 



36 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 

he "wished to retire for a short time to converse with his people and 
make further arrangements for the comfort of his guests, the 
governor, although suspicious of his intentions, could not raise 
any reasonable objection. Breakfast was prepared, by De Soto's 
order, for himself and the cacique, as they were accustomed to 
cat at the same table. Tuscaloosa was summoned, but did not 
answer the call ; again and again he was called ; at last a Spanish 
officer imperiously ordered him to obey. It was the signal for 
the battle. 

"What would these unmannerly people have with my chief? " 
asked an Indian warrior, angrily; "Down with the villains! 
We can endure their insolence no longer." 

He was killed instantly by a single blow from the cutlass of 
Gallegos, and the fight began. The Spaniards endeavored to es- 
cape from the town as soon as possible; but on their way to the 
gates, several of them were killed or wounded. The flint-headed 
arrows penetrated the armor of the Spaniards, and De Soto saw 
his men falling around him with fearful rapidity. Retreat now 
— and he could not continue the fight under these circumstances, — 
and the prestige of the Spaniards would be lost; they would no long- 
er bo regarded as invincible, and would soon be driven out of the 
country. Dismounting, he snatched uj) an axe, and advanced 
towards the wooden wall of the town, which protected the enemy 
from the fire of his men. Perceiving his j)urpose, DeMoscoso 
and two or three other brave soldiers followed him ; but the 
torrent of stones which the Indians poured down upon them 
crushed the less vigorous to the earth, and De Soto and De Mos- 
coso continued the work alone. At last a breach was made, 
wide enough for the admission of the cavalry. 

The village soon presented a scene of the utmost horror. The 
cavalry had dashed in upon the Indians, who retreated hastily to 
the houses ; the infantry followed. From every side the flint- 
headed arrows came in showers, dealing death to man and horse. 
The Spaniards set fire to the houses, and the terrors of the flames 
were added to those of the SAVord. The light structures of reeds 
and dry timbers burnt with fearful rapidity, and the fire spread 
all over the town in a short time. The cries of the women, more 
than a thousand of whom were burned to death, were added to 
the horrid din of the battle. In the market-place of the town was 
Tuscaloosa, with a small body of his bravest warriors, who 
fought desperately while their countrymen perished around them. 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 



37 



Not even did the charge of cavalry which De Soto led make them 
disperse. Shoulder to shoulder, heart to heart, stood these earli- 
est defenders of our country. Now the two chiefs press forward 




to a personal encounter with each other — tlie mounted, mail-clad 
knight of Spain and the gigantic warrior of the wilderness. But 
if one he defended by his shining armor, the other is shielded by 



38 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 

the love of his people. Other warriors throw themselves before 
him, and engage in the hopeless combat. One by one they fall 
before that lance, dripjiing with the |^blood of their race, and at 
last De Soto and Tuscaloosa meet. The immense war-club is 
raised for a blow, but with a chivalry that the lion-hearted king 
might have envied, and the fearless and blameless knight of 
France would have admired, its descent is arrested. An arrow 
has pierced Do Soto's haiiberk, and the wounded man is spared 
by the chief. Be Soto conceals his wound, lest his men be dis- 
heartened and yield to the enemy. For hours the fight continues, 
and the Spanish army is weakened by fatigue, fainting with 
hunger and thirst. But fortunately for them, the main body 
came up ( for only the van, of two hundred and fifty men, had 
bfeen engaged), and the tide turned in their favor. Still the 
Indians fought on, now desperately j often Tuscaloosa forced his 
way to where the battle raged fiercest, hoping in the thickest of 
the battle to meet again with the Spanish leader ; but again he is 
prevented by his people. At last he sees that all is lost, and 
rushing into a house near by, is almost instantly buried by the 
falling timbers. Not an Indian escaped from fire and sword. 
The number of those who perished is stated at from two thou- 
sand five hundred to four thousand, though Bancroft thinks even 
the smaller number exaggerated. 

The Sj)aniards remained for almost a month in the neighbor- 
hood of Mavilla, before the wounded had sufiiciently recovered 
to march. Nov. 18, they left the ruined town, and proceeded 
almost due north for five days. They were much delayed in 
crossing the Tombigbee, as the Indians disputed their passage 
twelve days. A further march of ten days brought them to a 
spot where they encamped for the winter ; probably in the north- 
ern part of the present state of Mississippi. 

The ships had arrived with fresh supplies from Cuba when De 
Soto gave orders to march northward from Mavilla; supplies 
which were all the more needed by them, since all their baggage 
had perished in the flames which consumed the Indian town. 
Why, in the face of these facts, he should have turned directly 
away from the needed provisions, is a matter for speculation 
only. His motive was probably in his fear that, an easy passage 
homeward being provided, they would desert him and return to 
Cuba. It will be recollected that he had expended nearly all his 
fortune in equipj)ing this expedition ; that he was resolved no^ 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 39 

to return without acquiring such wealth in Florida as Cortez had 
found in Mexico, or Pizarro in Peru. 

The Spanish historian records, as something remarkable, that 
his countrymen lived peacefully here for the space of two months. 
The corn was standing in the fields when they first encamped, 
although the ground was covered with snow. They were plenti- 
fully supplied with food during the winter by the Indians, but, 
as usual, attempted to impose upon the good nature of their ben- 
efactors. When the spring opened, De Soto demanded that two 
hundred Indians should be sent with him to carry the burdens of 
his company. This was a requirement not unusual with the 
Spaniards, but strange to the Chickasaws. Determined to .de- 
stroy the strangers, even at the sacrifice of their own homes, the 
Indians set fire to their own village, where the Spaniards were 
encamped, and attacked them. Had they been as resolute as 
Tuscaloosa's warriors, they would have been successful, but they 
speedily withdrew into the forests. Here they remained for a 
week, which time the Spaniards employed in erecting forges, 
tempering swords, and fashioning lances; so that when the na- 
tives finally summoned up enough resolution to attack them 
again, they were well prepared for resistance. 

The fire in this Chickasaw village had destroyed what they 
had saved from the flames of Mavilla, and clad only in skins and 
in mats of ivy, the miserable remnant of the once gallant army 
continued the journej^. For seven days they struggled through 
the wilderness, where the dense forest alternated only with al- 
most impassable marshes. Their spirits sank-*— surely they had 
come to the end of the world — but the iron will of the leader saw 
ahead the star of hope, and its rays, though faint and uncertain, 
were still golden. At last they came to an Indian village on thp 
banks of a mighty river, and from the height on which it stood 
De Soto saw the yellow flood of the Father of Waters, more than 
a mile broad-, bearing upon its mighty tide the monarchs of the 
forest that had been undermined by its changing current. For 
the first time, the eye of a white man beheld that mighty flood 
which to-day is bridged for our needs ; which the skill of the en- 
gineer has annihilated, as all distances and dangers have been 
conquered. 

His arrival awakening much curiosity among the Indians on 
the west bank, they came out in a great multitude, armed with 
bows and arrows, and gaudily painted, and crowned with nod- 



40 



FERDINAND DP, SOTO, 




DISCOVERY OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 



41 



ding plumes, their chiefs sitting under the awnings of two hun- 
dred large canoes, and bringing gifts of food to the Spaniards. 

Here they encamped for twenty days, building boats on which 
to cross the Mississippi. The Indians seemed at first disposed to 
resistance, but were awed by the evidently superior strength of 
the white men. At length eight large scows, each largo enough 
to transport fifty men and ten horses, were completed ; probably 






™^^ fej 







INDIAJSr FLEET MEETING DE SOTO. 



enough to transport all the men at 
one time, as many had perished on 
W^^ the way, by disease as well as by 
violence; and the river was crossed. 
This was the region of mineral wealth, as De Soto believed, 
and they plunged still more deeply into the heart of the conti- 
nent. Here, in the country of the Dakotas, they were regard- 
ed as the children of the sun, and the blind were brought 
into their presence to bo healed. The leader answered their 
supplications with the words: "Pray only to God, who is in 
heaven, for whatsoever you need." 

Journeying toward the northwest, they reached a point proba- 



42 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 

bl}- near White Eiver, two hnndred miles west of the Mississippi ; 
having crossed the main stream, according to most authorities, 
at about the boundary line between the present states of Missis- 
sippi and Tennessee. Then, turning southward, they came into 
the country of the Comanches. Here they met with such treat- 
ment and acted in such a manner, that, although the Spanish his- 
torian does not hint at such a word, we are forced to conclude 
that the gallant Spaniards retreated from the hostile Indians. 
They encamped for the winter in the midst of a less warlike peo- 
ple, living on the banks of the Washita; and seem to have treat- 
ed the inhabitants with more than their usual barbarity. It will 
be remembered that the men engaged in this expedition were 
rather more humane, owing to the restraint imposed by their 
leader, than the majority of Spaniards who had dealings with the 
natives ; but De Soto seems to have lost his humanity as his 
hopes died away ; perhaps he was even then suffering from the 
malarial influences of the country. Certain it is that the life 
and happiness of an Indian were valued less than ever, and any 
trifling consideration of safety would induce him to order a vil- 
lage burned. 

Misfortunes thickened ai'ound them j the winter was unusually 
severe, and they suffered from disease as well as privations. Juan 
Ortiz, the veteran of De ]S'arvaez' expedition, who had been 
so long in captivity, and who had been invaluable as a guide, 
died during this winter — an irreparable loss. Every hunting 
party met with loss before it returned, from the arrows of the 
Indians ; and only the indomitable will of the leader sustained 
them. 

Hope had led th^m onward, but now, even to tne keen eye of 
De Soto, there Wc^K. j x&j visible. Sadly, as spring drew near, 
he ordered preparation to be made for the journey — it was to go 
back whence they had come. Through a country inhabited by 
races they had wronged, where every day must see a contest be- 
tween them and the hostile natives, through marshes intersected 
by a network of bayous, through dense forests where the light of 
day scarcely penetrated to the slimy ooze on which they must 
tread, back to the Mississippi. They followed the course of the 
"Washita, then of theEed Eiver, at the mouth of which they found 
a country called G-uachoya. The chief could not tell them how 
far they were from the sea; he only knew that the course of the riv- 
er, farther south, lay through an uninhabited waste. An explor- 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 43 

ing party sent onwarrl traveled eight days through the cane- 
brakes, almost impassable, and the dense woods, and were only 
able to advance thirty miles. Horses and men were dying with 
fearful rapidity, and the governor's heart sank. The natives 
must soon overpower them, so rapidly was their number dimin- 
ishing. One last resort was tried. 

Mindful of the adoration of the northern tribes, he said to a 
chief near Katchez, that he was of supernatural birth. 

" You say you are the child of the sun," answers the Indian, 
with a touch of contempt for the falsehood ; " dry up the river, 
and I believe you." 

De Soto was in the midst of a vast wilderness j more than half 
of his army had perished by disease, accident and the devastation 
of war ; and nearly all who survived looked upon him as the 
author of all their sufferings. They had hoped to be cured of 
their diseases by drinking of the hot springs of Arkansas, whithea- 
the natives had directed them; there, they thought, might be 
that fountain of youth which Ponce de Leon had sought, and 
perished in the seeking; but this hope, too, had been in vain. 
The behavior of the cacique on whom he had tried to j)ractise 
the deception mentioned above, was insulting in the extreme, 
and two years before, his land would have been laid waste, his 
people murdered. But now, the proud SjDaniard must submit to 
every affront — revenge or resentment could not be his. 

To these ills was added bodily weakness. The soul of the 
hero may feel but slightly the pain of a wound, counting it pleas- 
ure to suffer for his country or the right ; but the dull languor 
of disease wears upon him as the dropping of water wears away 
the stone. Oj)pressed by melancholy and bndily infirmity, 
De Soto looked around him and saw that^a .^--of his subordi- 
nates had insj)ired the Indians with a wholesome fear ; that 
although the natives had, in spite of the chiefs contempt, almost 
reverenced him as a god while he was in his usual health, 
they now began to suspect that he was mortal like themselves. 

In his youth, while still under the command of De Avila, an 
astrologer had foretold that his life would resemble that of 
Balboa, the discoverer of the Pacific ocean ; and that he would 
live no longer than De Avila's unfortunate j)redecessor in the 
government of Darien. The limit was reached now, and the old 
prediction often recurred to his mind, but was as often banished. 
A monk of considerable medical skill soon reported that the 



44 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 



commander was gradually succumbing to his disease, which must 
soon prove fatal. 

" This is no more than I have expected," he answered calmly, 
when told of his condition ; " and I submit without a murmur 
to the will of God." 

Ho called the officers together, and bade them choose his suc- 
cessor; then, when they left the choice to him, nominated De Mos- 
coso. He counselled them as to their future course, and entrusted 
De Moscoso with a message for Donna Isabella. He took leave of 
the soldiers, whose every hardship he had shared, whose every 
danger he had braved ; and May 21, 1542, he died. 

Secretly, at night, they dug his grave ; silently they lowered 
his body into it; fearful that the Indians, if they knew of his 
death, would fall upon his followers and destroy them utterly. 
The next day they announced to the natives that the leader was 
better, although not yet able to leave his tent; and to conceal 
their grief, they instituted a sort of tournament. Backward and 
forward over the grave of their general they rode, apparently in 
the greatest joy. The impassible savages looked on, and sus- 
pected the truth. 




BURIAL OF DE SOTO. 

The searching inquiries of the cacique soon revealed this sus- 
picion to the Spaniards, and fearful that the grave of De Soto 
would be desecrated as they had defiled the Indian tombs, they 
exhumed his body, and weighting the winding-sheet heavily with 
sand, lowered it, at midnight, silently into the Mississippi. Th<' 



46 FERDINAND DE SOTO. 

broad golden flood parted to receive the body of the gold-seeker 
and closed above him and his hopes forever. 

There is not much more to tell. The Spaniards, no longer led 
by the spirit that would j)ress onward, no matter through what 
difficulties and dangers, resolved to proceed towards New Spain 
without delay. It was unanimously decided that a journey by 
land would be less dangerous than one by water, and they under- 
took to find a way to Mexico through the pathless forests. After 
wandering two hundred miles west of the river, they turned back 
in despair, and sought the banks of the Mississippi again. Here 
they devoted themselves to the construction of brigantines, no 
easy matter for men in their condition, and, more than a year 
after De Soto's death, were ready for their voyage. Seventeen 
days after their departure, followed by the arrows and the hate 
of the Indians, they had traveled the five hundred miles to 
the mouth of the Mississippi, but thirty-three more had passed 
before they reached Panuco, a town on the coast of Mex- 
ico about two hundred and sixty miles fi-om the boundary of 
the present state of Texas. 

Here they remained for a long time, quarreling so much among 
themselves that the Mexican viceroy was at last obliged to inter- 
pose his authority; not, however, until many of the three hundred 
and eleven survivors of this ill-starred company had perished at 
the hands of their comrades. 

Por three years, no intel'ligence of the expedition had reached 
Havana. Donna Isabella waited day after day, month after month, 
year after year, for tidings from Florida. None came. Her cheek 
paled, her eye dimmed with tears. At last some one who had re- 
turned from Mexico told the tale as it had been told to him, of 
the hardships and dangers they had met, of the mighty river they 
had discovered, and of the death of their leader. Three days 
after this confirmation of her fears, her soul rejoined his whose 
body rests beneath the mighty river which he discovered. 



CHAPTER n. 



FEEN^CH PIONEEES. 

FOE years after the adventurous Genoese returned safe from 
his voyage to the east by way of the west, the new world 
which he had given to Castile and Leon was claimed by many 
other nations, and regarded by all as the land for the attainment 
of wealth and glory. England claimed the northern continent 
in>ight of Cabot's discovery of Newfoundland and Labrador in 
1497 ; France claimed the same por- 
tion by virtue of the exploration of 
this sea by a daring Frenchman in 
1488, who told Columbus of the west- 
ern land ; and Spain held with pride 
to the gift of the pope — all America. 
In the sixteenth century, these were 
the three great powers of Europe, 
and no one was strong enough to 
expel the others from the territory 
claimed. The Spaniards, then, came 
here to seek wealth ; the English, to 
add to their territory; the French, 
to fish, and extend the limits of the papal authority over anew 
realm. Of course these were not the 'only motives of each, but 
they were the principal causes operating to send white men to 
the new world. 

JACQUES CARTIER. 

"Within fifty years after the first voyage of Columbus, French 
sailors had explored the coast of Canada, discovered the St. Law- 
rence, and established fisheries off the coast of Newfoundland. 
Jacques Cartier, a sturdy Breton, was the leader of the most im- 
portant of these expeditions. Nor were they trifling dangers 
which these sailors braved. Eeliable accounts of even older ex- 




JACQUES CARTLEK. 



48 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 

plorers told of the dreadful beings peopling Canada; it was the 
home of the dragon, the griffin, and no one knew what other ani- 
mals that were not to be feared in any other part of the world ; 
and at least one island was inhabited by demons, whose blood- 
curdling yells could be heard by thcimAvary navigator venturing 
too close to the shore. Despite such dangers, however, the fish- 
cries were claimed, the land was cxjilored, and in 1541 a settle- 
ment was established near the site of what is now Quebec. 

The French early made friends with the Indians, and the alli- 
ances between them have become matters of history. The differ- 
ence between the estimation in which the native held the French- 
man and that in which he held the Spaniard and Englishman was 
probabl}^ due to the early treatment he experienced at the hands 
of the whites. The Indians of the South were exasperated by the 
treatment received from De Soto's men; the savages of New 
England never forgot the outrage committed by Captain Hunt ; 
but the French, if they kidnapped the Indians later, gained their 
friendship first. We need not follow longer the efforts of Cartier 
to establish settlements in 'New France. The religious wars in the 
mother cotfntry sent to Florida those hapless colonists that per- 
ished at the hands of the Spaniards, but none of the dominant 
faith could be spared for explorations or settlements in the north. 

SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 

"When France was once more at peace, interest in the exten- 
sion of her territory revived, and after several voyages that re- 
sulted in no permanent foothold being obtained, an expedition 
was organized under the leadership of a man whose name, given 
to his discoveries, has become a household word along our Cana- 
dian border — Samuel de Champlain. 

Born in 1567, at a small seaport on the Bay of Biscay, his life 
had been spent in adventure and danger upon sea and land. 
Commissioned a captain in the royal navy at an early age, at 
twenty-three he became a soldier in the armies with which Henry 
IV established his claim to the crown of France, and for eight 
years fought bravely. The recognition of Henrj^'s authority 
put an end to the war, and Champlain, finding his occupation 
gone, was forced to seek some new outlet for his adventurous 
spirit. The space of two years and a half was occupied by a voy- 
age to the "West Indies and to Mexico. It is a noticeable fact 
that this bold, keen-sighted Frenchman, visiting Panama in 1592, 



SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 49 

conceived the idea of a ship-canal across the isthmus, and saw 
the same advantages that De Lesseps sees to-day in a similar 
plan, w^hich our own famous engineer, Eads, condemns as imprac- 
ticable. Returning to France, he found that an old soldier, De 
€hastes, had obtained from the king a patent granting him a 
monopol}^ of the fur-trade with the Indians of Canada. They had 
been companions-in-arms, and De Chastes knew that Champlain, 
young, ardent, yet ripe in experience, a skillful seaman and a 
practised soldier, was above all others the man for his enterprise. 
Setting sail in 1603, they found that the numerous tribes, of 
whom Cartier had told, had vanished, doubtless with the drag- 
ons and demons. A few wandering Algonquins made a rude 
map of the country on the deck of the little vessel, indicating 
Niag'ara as a raj^id ; Champlain essayed to pass the rapids of 
St. Louis, but failed, and the expedition returned to France. 

De Chastes was dead, but his mantle fell upon the Sieur de 
Monts, who, in the succeeding year, secured a patent from the 
King (patents cost nothing), being empowered to impress idlers 
and vagabonds as material for his colony. It was a strange mix- 
ture of men that filled his two ships — thieves and ruffians 
dragged on board by force, gentlemen by rank and nature, Catholic 
priests and Huguenot ministers. We will not detail the quar- 
rels that arose between these latter elements on the voyage, nor 
the horror of devout Catholic and Calvinist when the sacri- 
legious crew insisted upon burying in one grave a priest and a 
minister who had died on the same day, to see if they would lie 
])oaceably together. 

Sounding, exploring, surveying, they finally selected an island 
which they called St. Croix, in the river which now bears that 
name, as the site of their village ; a j^osition having no advan- 
tages except that it readily admitted of defense; but as one aim 
of the expedition was to convert the Indians, it seemed some- 
what strange that this qualification should be considered so im- 
portant. Soldiers, sailors, artisans, betook themselves to their 
task, and before the winter closed in, had erected dwellings for 
all. The ships returned to France, leaving this strangely assort- 
ed company to endure the hardships of a northern winter. De- 
spite the sheltering belt of cedars at the upper end of the island, 
the north wind swept down upon them with a severity they had 
never known before. Immense floating cakes of ice kept them 
for days from the mainland, thus cutting off supplies of wood and 



50 



SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 



water; cider and wine, frozen solid, were served exit by the 
pound J scurvy broke out, and thirty-five of the seventy-nine set- 
tlers died before spring. Only Champlain's indomitable tenacity 
of purpose kept them from despair; but we may know that he 
was not less glad than they, when, in the spring, supplies and 
reinforcements arrived from France. De Monts was by this time 
fully aware of the disadvantages of his present location, and tried, 
although unsuccessfully, to find a suitable place somewhere on 
the coast of the present state of Maine, which Champlain had ex- 
plored the previous September. Failing in this plan, he deter- 
mined to go to the inland harbor of Port Eoyal, and there he es- 
tablished his colony at the mouth of the Annapolis River. But 
enemies, jealous of his monopoly, were busily at work against him 
in Paris, and he was forced to return thither, leaving Champlain, 
Pontgrave and Champdore in command at Port Eoyal. 

Another winter of hardships, 
although less severe than the last, 
brought them to the spring of 1606. 
Champlain, in a badly built vessel 
of eighteen tons, explored the 
coast as far as the southeastern 
part of Massachusetts, but with 
little resulting advantage. The 
peninsula of Cape Cod he found 
thickly studded with the wigwams 
of a warlike race, who inflicted 
some injury upon a part of the 
company that, contrary to orders, 
landed J two being killed, and the others flying to the boat, brist- 
ling with arrows as a porcupine with quills. The savages were re- 
pulsed by a charge of Champlain with nine men, and the dead bu- 
ried with proper solemnities. During the interment, they could see 
the Indians upon a neighboring hill, dancing with glee and mock- 
ing them by unseemly gestures ; and as soon as the graves in the 
wilderness were left unguarded, the bodies were exhumed and 
burned, the clothes being shared among the natives. 

Disgusted by the reception no less than by the character of the 
country itself, Champlain and his men returned to Port Eoyal, 
where the winter, less severe than those alreadj^ experienced, 
was spent. At dinner, the aged chief Memberton Avas a daily 
guest at the table of the principal persons, and warriors, squaws 




SAMUEL DE CHAMPLArN. 



SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 51 

and children sat on the floor or crouched in the corners, await- 
ing eagerly and humbly a portion of bread or biscuit. Treated 
always with kindness, they became very fond of the French, act- 
ing as guides and instructors when the Europeans would hunt 
those animals peculiar to America. The colonists had been well 
fed throughout the winter, such was the abundance of game ; and 
as spring opened, and the grain planted in the fall began to grow, 
new life seemed infused into their efforts. But their prosperity 
received a sudden blow, in the king's withdrawal of the monopo- 
ly of the fur trade, and, to the grief of the aged Memberton, they 
returned to France in the fall of 1607. When the last boat-load 
left Port Boyal, the shore resounded with lamentations ; and 
nothing could console the afflicted savages but oft repeated prom- 
ises of a speedy return. 

Three years later, a second colony was established in the same 
place, under the auspices of the queen regent (for Henry IV was 
dead) a*nd the Jesuits. Memberton and many of his people were 
baptized ; to those who came seeking spiritual counsel, the good 
fathers gave food in abundance ; and one hopeful convert, when 
dying, inquired with considerable solicitude if in heaven he would 
find pies as good as those which the French had given him. Yet 
the missionaries wrote home of their excellent success, and Mem- 
berton, at his death, was said to be a devout Christian, 

The succeeding years of the colony were filled with misfor- 
tunes, terminating in the capture of most of the settlers by the 
English, and the complete destruction of the village. But even 
while the Jesuits had been feeding and baptizing the Indians, a 
lonely ship had sailed up the St. Lawrence. In the heart of the 
commander were bright hopes of the land of which he was al- 
ready enamored. Ascending the vast flood, twenty miles from 
shore to shore, they came to a point where the stream suddenly 
contracted to a mile in width j on one hand the green heights of 
Point Levi; on the other, the cliffs, named by the Indians, be- 
cause here the stream narrowed, Quebec. Soon the solitudes saw 
a gang of men at work, felling trees, and in a few weeks a pile of 
wooden buildings rose on the brink of the St. Lawrence. A strong 
wooden wall surrounded an inclosure containing three buildings, 
a court-yard, and a tall dove-cote. This wall was pierced by 
loop-holes for musketry, and a moat and three or four small 
cannon gave greater security. Hero Champlain was left with 
twenty-eight men, and the ship returned to Francx-, 
4 



52 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 

Starving Indians beset the fort, begging for food; now^ ter- 
rified by prophetic dreams of tlieir enemies, imploring shelter 
within the enclosure. How the winter passed with them, we 
do not know. Champlain has recorded little besides the in- 
tense cold, and in the latter part of the cold weather, their suf- 
ferings from scurvy. But spring came on, and as the woods 
put on a more cheerful dress than the icy covering they had 
worn so long, the poor, disease-stricken creatures crept out 
into the May sunshine, and saw, in the young grass of the mead- 
ows, where the marsh-marigolds shone like miniature suns, the 
graves of twenty of their companions. Champlain alone seems to 
to have escaped the ravages of the disease which was then the 
scourge of mankind, and with new vigor drawn from the spring 
sunshine, he anticipated the long-desired journey to the south- 
west. Difficulties there were in the way, but even while his sol- 
dier heart despised them, he formed a plan for evading them. The 
Indian tribes, to whom peace was unknown, infested with their 
scalping parties the streams and j^athways of the forest, increas- 
ing tenfold its inseparable risks. Anticipating surprises, he re- 
solved to join a war party, and fight his way to discovery. The 
tribes east of the Mississippi were divided into tM^o vast families, 
the Algonquins and the Huron-Iroquois, and these were never at 
peace with each other. Opportunity Avas not lacking, for the 
surrounding Indians had frequently visited Quebec during the 
winter, and had been struck with amazement and admiration 
when they saw the superior military skill and accoutrements of 
the French. A young Algonquin chief had urged Champlain to 
join him, in the spring, in a campaign against his enemies, the 
Iroquois, and Champlain, hoping to hold the balance of power 
between the nations of the New World, and thus attain for 
France an unquestioned suj)remacy, assented to the plan. 

Waiting for the coming of the war-party, he at last set out 
without it; but, moving up the St. Lawrence, saw, thickly clus- 
tered in the forest, the lodges of his allies. The southern family 
of Indians was divided by a mortal enmity, and the Hurons were 
with the Algonquins. Two chiefs, then, received the steel-clad 
strangers, and they were conducted to their lodge by a staring 
crowd of savages. Few of the warriors had ever seen a white 
man, and they surrounded these in speechless wonder. There 
were feasting, smoking, speeches ; and these necessary ceremo- 
nies having cemented the bond of friendship between them, all 



SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 53 

descended together to Quebec; for the warriors must see with 
their own eyes the wonderful town where dwelt these wonderful 
men. 

It was the twenty-eighth of May, 1609, before their curiosity 
was fully satisfied ; before war-dance and war-feast had been 
often enough rejjeated ; before they were ready to start upon the 
journey which had been jilanned. Twelve white men, in a small 
shallop, were in the midst of the swarm of bark canoes that hun- 
dreds of dusky arms, with steady, measured sweep, were driving 
onward. Reaching the mouth of a river then called des Iroquois, 
but since named Eichelieu, they encamped for two days, the war- 
riors hunting and then quarreling among themselves. Three- 
fourths of their number, as the result of their disagreement, re- 
turned home, leaving the rest to jiursue their course up the broad 
and quiet river. 

The shalloji outsailed the canoes, and anxious to know the char- 
acter of the stream before venturing too far, Cham.plain, leaving 
the boat in charge of four men, proceeded on foot through the 
woods. His Indian allies had assured him that throughout the 
proposed journey his shallop could pass unobstructed; but he 
now heard the hoarse surging of rapids, and saw the water thick- 
ly set with rocks, through which no larger boat than the birch- 
bark canoe could be safely steered. Returning to the shallop, 
he found that the savages had overtaken it, and mildly rebuked 
them for the deception put upon him; adding that he was never- 
theless determined to perform his part of the contract. JSTine 
men, with the shallop, returned to Quebec, while Champlain, 
with two volunteers, went onward in the Indian canoes. Sixty 
warriors and twenty-four canoes were counted, as the Indians, 
carrying their light vessels on their shoulders, filed in long pro- 
cession through the forest to the smooth water above the rapids. 

Landing towards the close of the day, less than two hours suf- 
ficed for the construction of a strong defensive half-moon, open 
on the river-side, and large enough to contain all the light sheds 
and huts, hastily erected for the night. Scouts were despatched 
in all directions, and returning, reported no danger near. The 
medicine-man, concealed in his hut, invoked the Manitou. The 
chief took more practical measures to insure their safety; gath- 
ering bundles of sticks, ho named each one for some warrior as 
he stuck it into the ground ; the savages gathered around and 
studied this arrangement attentively for a few moments, and then, 



54 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 

forming into battle array as thus indicated, they broke their 
ranks, mingled a few moments in the wildest confusion, and re- 
formed with wonderful alacrity and skill. At last the camp was 
still ; no sentinel's measured tread disturbed the silence, for al- 
though every warrior was wrapped in slumber, the breaking of 
a twig would instantly arouse them all. 

Advancing further south, the river widened as they went. 
Channels where ships might float, broad stretches of water, ex- 
tended from shore to shore of the large islands, leagues in extent, 
and Champlain entered the lake which now bears his name. We 
need not dilate upon the beauty of the scene which here met his 
gaze ; our interest rather centers in the adventures which here 
awaited him and his allies. 

Progress was now becoming dangerous, and greater precau- 
tions were therefore adopted. Lying all day close in the depths 
of the forest, at twilight they would embark again, and pursue 
their way until dawn. Their intention was to follow the natural 
highway marked out by lakes and rivers, and which became, in 
the following century, the grand pathway of war, and to attack 
some outlying town of their enemies on the Hudson river ; but 
they did not have to go so far. Among the aborigines, dreams 
had always been regarded as supernatural in origin, and as pro- 
phecies or guidance for the future. Champlain had been eagerly 
questioned as to his dreams, but his unbroken slumbers had hither- 
to disappointed his allies. At last, on the twenty-ninth of July, 
he was able to answer their inquiries to their satisfaction ; he had 
dreamed of the Iroquois drowning in the lake ; of his wish to 
succor them, and of the Algonquin advice to leave them to the 
fate which they deserved. Highly elated at this utterance of their 
oracle, they pushed forward on their nightly journey. 

It was ten o'clock before they saw before them on the lake a 
mass of dark objects moving towards them — the canoes of the 
Iroquois. Each party saw the other and distinguished an enemy 
by the paint and ornaments worn ; and war-cries, making the 
night hideous, j^ealed over the dark water. The Iroquois were 
near the shore, and quickly took advantage of their superior 
position, landing, and with iron axes taken in war from the 
Canadian tribes, and with stone hatchets of their own making, 
working like beavers in cutting down trees for a barricade. The 
Algonquins, thus made the attacking party, lashed their canoes 
to long poles, and, remaining a bow-shot from their enemies, dan- 



SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 55 

ced all night long with as much vigor as the frailty of their vessels 
would permit; making up for any short comings in this direction 
by the energy displayed in hurling abuse, sarcasm, menace and 
boasting at the garrison — compliments returned with interest. 

The attack was deferred until daybreak. At dawn Champlain 
and his two followers put on the light armor of the time, and 
armed with sword and arquebus, prepared for the fight. The 
three Frenchmen were in different canoes, and each concealed 
himself, as the Algonquins approached the shore, either by lying 
flat in the bottom, or by covering himself with an Indian robe. 
Landing without opposition, at some distance from the Iroquois, 
they presently saw the enemy filing out of their barricade — two 
hundred tall, strong men, of the boldest and fiercest warriors in 
America. Advancing through the forest with an order which 
excited the admiration of the veteran French soldier, he noted 
several chiefs that were conspicuous by their tall plumes, and 
has particularly described their armor, of twigs interwoven with 
cords, and shields of wood or hides. 

Alarmed at the large opposing force, the Algonquins called 
with loud cries for their champion. As Champlain, clad from 
head to foot in armor, a plumed casque increasing his apparent 
height, advanced to the front through the avenue opened in the 
ranks of red men, the Iroquois stood and stared in speechless 
wonder. Before they had recovered from their surprise, his 
arquebus, clumsy enough to our eyes, but all-sufficient for the 
time, was levelled ; a loud roar rang through the woods ; one of 
their chiefs fell dead, and another by his side rolled among the 
bushes. Quickly following up their success the Algonquins echo- 
ed the report of his gun with the wild yell with which they were 
accustomed to startle their enemies and awaken their own cour- 
age, and a flight of arrows darkened the air. For a moment the 
Iroquois stood firm, and answered arrow for arrow ; but when 
the deadly thunder broke again and again, they turned and fled 
in uncontrollable terror. Like dogs after deer, the allied Hurons 
and Algonquins tore through the thicket in hot pursuit. Some 
of the Iroquois were killed, more were captured ; and the vic- 
tory was complete. 

At night, they bivouacked in the forest, and prepared to tor- 
ture one of the captives. Champlain sickened at the dreadful 
sight, and asked to be allowed to shoot him. At first refusing 
his request, they tore the scalp from the living man's head ; then, 



56 



SAMUEL DE CHAMPLArN. 




SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 67 

as the Prenchman turned away in disgust and anger, called out : 

" Do as you will with him." 

He turned again, and the captive's sufferings were mercifully 
ended by the bullet which sped to his heart. 

Retreating promptly — a measure which, with the Indians, al- 
ways followed victory, — in three or four days they arrived at the 
mouth of the Richelieu. Here they separated, the Ilurons and 
Algonquins, each with a share of prisoners to be tortured, pro- 
ceeding towards the Ottawa, and Champlain, with a small party 
of Montagnais, returning to Quebec. 

Champlain went back to France soon after this expedition, 
which occurred in 1609, and recounted his exploits to the king, 
to whom he presented the head of a dead Iroquois, and various 
natural cui'iosities from Canada. Setting sail early in the spring 
of 1610, a short time before the king's assassination, he repaired 
immediately upon his arrival to the rendezvous with the Hurons 
and Algonquins at the mouth of the Richelieu. These had prom- 
ised to guide him to the great lakes on whose shores were cop- 
per mines, and the Montagnais were to lead him northward to 
Hudson's Bay. To each of these he had promised the same re- 
ward — help in a second warlike expedition against the Iroquois, 
and it was in a boat surrounded by a multitude of canoes, filled 
with lank-haired Montagnais warriors, that he repaired to the 
rendezvous appointed. 

On the nineteenth of June, an island in the St. Lawrence was 
swarming with busy and noisy savages, Champlain's allies, cut- 
ting down trees to clear the ground for a dance and a feast with 
which they intended to welcome the hourly-expected Algon- 
quins. Suddenly a canoe came in sight, and as the paddles urged 
it forward with unusual haste, the messenger called to them that 
the Algonquins were in the forest, a league away, fighting with 
the Iroquois. "With cries of piercing shrillness, they leaped into 
their canoes, and made for the shore, Champlain and his four 
Frenchmen being among them. The light barks shot through the 
water, and as the prow grated on the pebbles, each warrior snatch- 
ed up his light arms and sped like a greyhound into the woods. 
The Frenchmen, untrained to the wilderness, and encumbered by 
heavier clothing and arms, soon fell far into the rear. Deserted 
in the midst of a swamp, over which their light-footed allies had 
bounded undeterred, having to wade througli water knee-deep, 
to climb over fallen trees, among slimy logs and entangled roots, 



58 SAMUEL DE CHAMI>LAIN. 

tripped by vines, lashed by recoiling boughs, " cruelly persecu- 
ted" by swarm of mosquitoes, the poor Frenchmen, loaded down 
by their armor, at length hailed two Indians running in the dis- 
tance, and obliged them to act as guides to the presence of the 
enemy. The Iroquois stood at bay behind a breast-work of 
trunks, boughs and matted foliage ; the Algonquins had attacked 
them, but had met with a bloody repulse, and now flocked around 
them, half hidden in the edges of the forest, eager and clamor- 
ous, yet afraid to renew the fight until the arrival of their allies. 
A wild yell welcomed the Frenchmen ; another, from within the 
barricade, defied them. A storm of arrows from both sides fol- 
lowed 3 Chamjjlain and one of his men were wounded by the 
stone-headed missiles, but drawing the arrows from the flesh, ran 
uj) to the barricade. At the sight of the terrible strangers, clad 
in lightning and armed with thunder, the Iroquois threw them- 
selves flat ujDon the earth. Gaining new courage from their allies, 
the Algonquins rushed up to the barricade, and began to tear 
away the trees composing it. Some fur-traders, who had heard 
the firing, now came up, and could not resist the impulse to join 
in the fight. They opened fire upon the besieged Indians, who, 
wild with terror, leaped and writhed to dodge the shot which 
their frail armor could not resist. At a signal from Champlain, 
the wild horde charged upon the impromptu fort, and forced 
an entrance. Some of the Iroquois were cut down, as, war-club 
in hand, they stood hewing at their enemies j some climbed the 
barrier and were killed by the raging mob without, or, reaching 
the river, were drowned in its blood stained current; fifteen sur- 
vived and were taken prisoners. Of these, Champlain could save 
but one from the torture, and one was quartered and eaten. 

According to the custom of the Indians, the victors had no 
thought of following up their success. Elated at their victory, 
they indulged in all the festivities that their experience could 
suggest; and after a few days returned home with the ghastly 
trophies of the blow struck on the enemy. Champlain had per- 
formed his share of the contract, but for some reason which does 
notajipear, did not claim from the Indians the fulfillment of their 
promise. Probably cares connected with his colony, and dan- 
ger to it arising from the assassination of the king, tidings of 
which awaited him on his return, called him to France without 
delay. Certainly he sailed thither without loss of time, and re- 
mained until the following spring (1611). 



SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 59 

The entanglement of his ship among di-ifting fields and moun- 
tains of ice, off the coast of Newfoundland, on his return voyage, 
proved but an omen of the difficulties which were to follow. Anx- 
ious to establish a permanent post, through which the advantages 
of trade with the great Indian communities of the interior should 
be secured to DeMonts, he found that wild reports of the wonders 
of !N"ew France had brought thither numberless adventurers, 
eager for riches ; and saw that whatever he might accomplish or 
undergo would be for their advantage. 

Nor were the Indians pleased at the coming of this legion of 
traders. A band of Hurons, loaded with skins, came to the ren- 
dezvous. The traders saluted them from their vessels and fright- 
ened th^m nearly to death ; they could not understand how the 
same explosion might be used to express both enmity and respect, 
to kill or to honor, as the case might be. Still further frightened by 
the bearing of the disorderly crowd, they awakened Champlain, 
late at night, and invited him to their camp. There he found the 
chiefs and warriors assembled in council. The peace-pipe was 
proffered and accepted, and in troubled tones the chief said : 

" Come to our country, buy our beaver, build a fort, teach us 
the true faith, but do not bring this crowd with you." 

Believing that these lawless bands of rival traders, all well- 
armed, intended to attack, plunder and kill them, it required all 
Champlain's powers of jjersuasion to keep the peace. The night 
was spent in friendly talk, but the frightened Indians soon broke 
up their camp, and went, some to their homes, some to fight the 
Iroquois, while the traders returned to Tadoussac, and Champlain 
to Quebec. 

Such was the state of affairs that Champlain was now obliged 
to go to Prance, to seek some powerful patron for the colony. 
This was accomplished, and as lieutenant for the nobleman 
who became lieutenant-general for the king, he returned to in- 
fuse new life into the little settlement that looked to him for 
support in all its trials. Yet, though he was the life and soul 
of jSTew Prance, though without him it would soon have been 
left again to the Indians, his great object was not to establish 
colonies there. In his eyes, fur-trade and settlements were 
but means to an end, or rather, to two ends. These two great 
objects were to find a way to China and to convert the In 
dians. Many of the rival traders were given an interest in the 
company, so that much of the trouble from that quarter had van- 



60 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 

ished ; and every possible arrangement was made to further his 
plans for exploring expeditions. His heart must have leaped 
high when a young Frenchman, who had been with the Algon- 
quins up the Ottawa, reappeared in Paris with a wonderful, yet 
not improbable story of a voyage to the northern sea, distant 
from Montreal only seventeen days' journey. Many eminent 
]iersons about the court urged Champlain to follow up these 
discoveries; and the daring adventurer, nothing loath, again 
crossed the Atlantic in the spring of 1613, and with four French- 
men and one Indian, set out from the neighborhood of Montreal 
to find the promised passage to the northern ocean. 

We will not follow them in their daily toil as they made their 
way up the Ottawa; now over rocks, now through the woods, 
they had to carry their canoes ; launching them, by turns they 
pushed, dragged, lifted, paddled, shoved with poles the light 
structures of birch-bark. Here, where rapid after rapid made the 
river a foamy slope, where, smooth and shining, the water 
glided softly in and out the shadows of the trees, while the terri- 
fied settlers at Jamestown dared not venture out of cannon-shot 
of their town, and when no white man's home disturbed the N'ew 
England Indian's solitude, Champlain and his men boldly pressed 
forward into the wilderness where never before had a white man 
set foot; and planted the huge crosses of white cedar, symbols of 
the white man's faith, along the banks of the stream. 

Keeping the course advised by the Indians, they reached a far 
inland point by a path so beset with difficulties that a chief whom 
they visited said, in astonishment, while he offered the calumet: 

"These white men must have fallen from the clouds ; for how 
else could they have reached us through the woods and rapids 
which even we find it hard to pass ? The French chief can do 
anything. All that we have heard of him must be true." 

Proceeding still northward, he was entertained with great re- 
joicings by Tessonat, chief of the tribes north of Lake Coulange, 
who was, however, only with difficulty persuaded to furnish him 
with canoes for the further prosecution of his journey ; and after 
he had agreed to help them, the promise was withdrawn, they 
urging that rapids, rocks, cataracts, and the wickedness of the 
ISTipissings would bar their way. But Champlain stood firm. 

" This young man," he said, pointing to the adventurer who 
had told of his wonderful travels, "has been to their country, and 
did not find the road or the people so bad as you have said." 



SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 61 

"Nicholas," demanded the chief, "did yon say that you had 
been to the country of the Nipissings ?" 

Summoning all his effronterj^, Nicholas asseverated that he 
had been there. His reply was followed by a fierce outcry from 
the contemptuous savages, which the unceremonious chief cut 
short with the blunt words : 

"You are a liar. You know very well that you slept here with 
my people every night and hunted with them all the day, so that 
if you ever went, it must have been while you were asleep. How 
can 3^ou lie to your chief? He ought to torture 3"ou, for you are 
an enemy to him." 

Questioned privately by Champlain, ISTicholas Vignan swore 
that he had spoken truth, but when the Indians asked him con- 
cerning his route, he had no answer to make. Champlain, hav- 
ing come so far, and through such difficulties, was naturally 
anxious to believe his countryman, and thus displeased the In- 
dians. When, however, he was ready to go, he again questioned 
Vignan, who fell on his knees and implored forgiveness for his 
imposture. No further reason remained for their journey, and 
somewhat crestfallen, the adventurers returned to that point 
where Montreal now stands. 

When Champlain returned from a voyage to France in 1615, 
four Franciscans accompanied him, to labor for the conversion 
of the Indians. Two remained in Quebec, two went as traveling 
missionaries among the Montagnais and the Hurons. But the 
Indians wished temporal, rather than spiritual assistance, and 
urged Champlain to accompany them upon an inroad into the 
country of their enemies, the Iroquois. No sjDCcial adventure 
made the journey remarkable. The war-party penetrated as far 
south as the southern shore of Lake Oneida, where an Iroquois 
village then stood. This was attacked under the generalship of 
Champlain, but such was the confusion into which his savage sol- 
diers fell in their attempt to follow European methods, that they 
were repulsed, and absolutely refusing to again assail the town, 
retreated. 

The Hurons had promised Champlain an escort to Quebec, but 
each warrior found some reason for refusing to lend his canoe, 
and the chiefs had no power but persuasion. Undoubtedly the 
defeat, which had proven Champlain not invincible, had much to 
do with their refusal ; even though it was caused by their own 
sudden retreat. Nothing was to be done, therefore, but to re- 



62 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 

main all winter in the Huron Tillage, and he accepted the shel- 
ter of the lodge belonging to a chief named Durantal. 

Although they would not discommode themselves to escort him 
to Quebec, Champlain was treated with all honor while at the 
Indian village ; and when, on one occasion, allured by the 
strange bird that we know as the red-headed woodpecker, he 
went far into the woods, and losing his way, was gone several 
days, they searched for him without ceasing, and welcomed him 
back with the most extravagant expressions of joy. To prevent 
the occurrence of such a misfortune again, Durantal would nev- 
er afterward allow him to go into the forest without an attendant. 

Eeturning to Quebec in the spring, he was welcomed as one 
arisen from the grave, for the Indians had reported that he was 
dead. His forest wanderings were now over; a new task, al 
though a less congenial one, awaited him ; and he devoted him- 
self to nursing the puny colony into life and strength with the 
same interest and energy which he had put into his exploring ex- 
peditions and military raids. Quebec could hardly be called a 
settlement; it was half trading-post, half mission; and although 
Champlain was the nominal commander, the merchants and the 
friars, between them, controlled everything. All was discord and 
disorder, the two ruling classes uniting in but one thing : hatred 
and jealousy of Champlain. 

The governor displayed considerable tact in dealing with these 
almost unmanageable elements ; but there seemed to be no end 
to his misfortunes. He at last believed that he had bound the 
company of merchants to engagements that they would not 
break, and in this vain hope brought his wife to the new coun- 
try with which his name was now so closely identified. But his 
hope proved vain.. Matters went from bad to worse, and at last 
the Indians formed a plot to utterly destroy the French. They 
were, however, betrayed by one of their number, and came to 
seek for peace. In 1622, an inroad from the Iroquois settlement 
occasioned considerable alarm, but ten years had not caused them 
to forget the fatal guns, and they hastily retreated when they 
found the town prepared for defense. 

The life of Champlain is the history of Quebec for nearly thir- 
ty 3-cars. But the most useful life is not always possessed of the 
most interest; then let us pass over in silence the next thirteen 
years, eventful to the struggling colony, but of little importance 
save to the local antiquarian. 1635 was the date of the severest 



MARQUETTE. 



63 



misfortune which had yet befallen the struggling colony, for then 
it was that Champlain died. His strong hand had sustained it 
through troubles from without and dissensions within ; winning 
the resj^ect of the savages, he prevented danger from that quar- 
ter; and by his indefatigable exertions foiled the efforts of those 
who would have sacrificed everything to their own gain. 

MARQUETTE. 

But, whilo Champlain was dead, the spirit of adventure was 
still alive, although for a little time it slumbered. It will be re- 
membered that a number of Franciscans had come to New France 




JESUrr MISSIONARY PREACHING TO THE INDIANS. 

to engage in missionary work ; later, when Calvinists were per- 
mitted to trade there, it was on the express condition that they 
maintain a certain number of Jesuits in this wilderness. These 
men, vowed not only to chastity, poverty and obedience, but to 
go wherever their superior should send them, left the cells where 
they had, perhaps, studied half their lives away, and wore away 
the remainder of their days amid the hardships of the wilderness. 
They claimed to be successful in their work, and certainly the 
claim is justified if we consider only the number of converts ; but 



64 MARQUETTE. 

when we come to the extent of conversion which each Indian 
underwent, the case is altered. Whatever they may or may not 
have accomplished spiritually, certainly they thought they were 
doing their duty, and no privations deterred, no dangers daunted 
them. They penetrated into the wilderness in every direction, 
and becoming emhued with the spirit of adventiire, are enrolled 
among the most famous of explorers. 

Such a man was Father Marquette, whose name has become in- 
dissolubly connected with the history of the Mississippi. Boru in 
Prance in 1637, he came to Canada as a Jesuit missionary in 1666, 
and immediately applied himself to the study of several dialects 
of the Algonquin tongue. A year and a half had been spent in 
this way when he was sent to found a mission subordinate to the 
main one at Quebec. A year or more after this, he was sent, for a 
similar purpose, to La Pointe, among the Ottawas and Hurons ; 
here he heard of a mighty river lying to the southwest, called in 
the Indian tongue by a name signifying " Father of Waters." 
The ideas entertained by the Europeans of that age regarding 
the extent of the western continent seem to us absurd. They did 
not realize that the width was so much greater at the middle part 
of North America than it had been found to be in Mexico ; and 
were continually expecting to come upon the Pacific after a com- 
paratively short journey. When the Indians, then, told him of 
this great river rising in the west and flowing to the south, Father 
Marquette's first thought was that it would furnish a highway to 
the South Sea, as the Pacific was then called. He had already 
dreamed of converting all the tribes dwelling in that region, and 
to this hope was added that keen desire of adventiirous explora- 
tions that had possessed Cartier and Champlain, and was even 
then urging the Sieur de La Salle onward over the same course. 

Frontenac, then governor of Quebec, readily listened to such 
suggestions, and in 1673 commissioned Louis Joliet to undertake 
the tour of discovery, Marquette being instructed by the Jesuits 
to accompany him. On the seventeenth of May they started from 
Mackinaw, having already explored and rudely mapped the 
shores of three of the Great Lakes — Huron, Michigan and Supe- 
rior. Floating along the streams on their route, carrying 
their canoes from water to water, and finally reaching the Wis- 
consin, it was just a month after their departure from Mackinaw 
that they came to the mouth of that river, and beheld the broad 
blue flood of the Mississippi. Descending this for days, they 



MARQUETTE. 



65 



traveled three hundred miles before tney saw the face of any 
human being but those in their own company. At last they saw 
a trail on the eastern side of the river, and, following it, came to 
a town of the Illinois. Here they were kindly received, this 
tribe being a branch of the great Algonquin family with which 
the French had firmly allied themselves; and much refreshed by 
this evidence that they were not all alone in the wilderness, they 
continued their jouraey. Past the mouth of the Missouri, whose 




MARQUETTE DESCENDING TUE MISSISSIPPI. 



swift current bore the trunks and large branches of trees with 
resistless power onward, and sapping the foundation of huge 
sandy bluffs, swept them into its own flood of muddy water j 
past the mouth of the Ohio, whose volume was now so much 
greater than at any other season of the year ; past the flat and 
marshy lands below the level of the water, protected only by the 
natural levees which the river itself had formed, and Avhich, at 
that season, had probably given way to the vast flood's impetu- 
ous force. Perhaps the spring rains had swollen the volume of 
the main stream and its tributaries, and it was over a vast golden 
sea that the two frail canoes floated. 

At the mouth of the Arkansas they found a higher degree of 
civilization than they had yet observed among the natives. 



66 LA SALLE. 

These Indians, who told them it was but ten days' journey to the 
sea, had plainly had intercourse with the Spaniards, for they had 
weapons and tools of steel, and glass bottles for use as powder 
flasks. Fearful lest they should fall into the hands of these white 
men, whom the Indians described as clothed like the French, and 
possessed of images and beads, they turned back home. Four 
months sufficed for the completion of this voyage of more than 
two thousand miles, the return route being somewhat different 
than that by which they had come; for they ascended the Illi- 
nois, and are supposed to have made the portage to Lake Michi- 
gan near where Chicago now stands. 

But the Jesuit missionary had accomplished but little ; his ex- 
plorations were regarded as mere preparation for his prime ob- 
ject. In October of the following year he set out, with a party 
requiring ten canoes for transportation, to form a mission settle- 
ment in the country of the Illinois. The western shore of Lake 
Michigan was skirted, and the mouth of the Chicago reached. 
Disease had already laid her hand heavily upon him, and enfee- 
bled by its weight, he decided to go no farther at that time. 
Throughout the winter the party remained there, only removing 
when, in the spring, a freshet nearly carried away their log hut. 
Arriving at the Indian town of Kaskaskia, he was ''received like 
an angel from heaven." Here, however, ho did not linger, but 
went upon another exploring expedition along the eastern shore 
of Lake Michigan, where, on the bank of a small stream south of 
that which now bears his name, he at last yielded to the disease 
which had so long enfeebled him, and was buried on the shores 
of the lake. A year later (1676) his bones were conveyed rever- 
entially by a party of his Indian converts to the mission of St. 
Ignace, and there buried with due solemnities. 

LA SALLE. 

While the Jesuits, as represented by Father Marquette, were 
exploring the valley of the Mississippi and the region drained by 
the more westerly of the chain of great lakes, another element 
of Canadian life was entering into the same work in another di- 
rection. While the Jesuits were able to control the Indians to a 
marvellous degree, it was only while the fathers alone assumed 
such power; any division of it with the traders or the civil au- 
thority was fatal to its further existence. So far, then, from the 
purposes of trade being served by the missionaries, the efforts of 



LA SALLE. 67 

these men rather retarded commerce between their countrymen 
and their converts. There was, however, in Canada, another 
class of ecclesiastics, that united more readily with the laymen — - 
the Franciscans, — and it was in conjunction with the priests of 
this order that the famous Sieur de la Salle made his tours of ex- 
ploration. 

Eobert Cavelier,de la Salle was born in Eouen, of a good fam- 
ily, about 1643, although no definite record of the year of his birth 
has been found. Educated in a Jesuit seminary for the priest- 
hood, for some reason he failed to enter upon the life for which 
he had been intended ; what that reason may have been cannot be 
discovered after the lapse of more than two centuries; but the 
fact that he received no share in his father's property shows what 
course had been marked out for him, and the testimonials he re- 
ceived upon leaving college give no room for believing his con- 
duct forbade his ordination„ 

Coming to Canada about 1667, for several years his only aim 
seems to have been the accumulation of a modest competence by 
means of trading with the Indians. Considering his limited 
means, his operations were on a bold scale ; with the same enter- 
prising spirit which afterwards made him famous, he pushed for- 
ward to the frontier, erected trading-houses, and superintending 
in person the details of his business, freighted his bark canoes 
and ascended the rapids of the St. Lawrence and other rivers. 
Here he learned from the Indians the only kind of navigation 
which then existed on the inland streams and lakes of. this 
country. 

While engaged in this work, he had gained much knowledge 
of the language and customs of the Indians with whom he trad- 
ed; and hearing from them, as Father Marquette had already 
heard, wonderful stories of the countries and rivers south of them, 
his imagination was kindled, his adventurous spirit excited; and 
he anticipated that fame and fortune would result from the dis- 
covery of a short and easy route to China. The Great Lakes 
had been but recently explored, and filled with new hope by the 
certainty that such bodies of water extended in that direction, 
he conjectured that the Pacific lay not far from the western end 
of Superior, or that a chain of similar lakes would furnish an easy 
passage if it were farther off. 

His chief trading establishment was on the island of Montreal, 
and was called, in commemoration of his hopes and plans, La 



68 ' LA SALLE. 

Chine. Here a band of Senecas -spent the winter of 1668-9, in ac- 
cordance with a custom which had obtained among the Indians 
of attaching themselves to any party of white men from whom 
they could beg food and shelter. These told him of the great 
Ohio, rising in their country and flowing to the sea, but so long 
as to require eight or nine months to paddle to its mouth. La 
Salle felt assured that this stream must empty into the Gulf of 
California, explored less than thirty years before by the Span- 
iards, and determined to seek the passage of which he had 
dreamed so long. 

But he was no mere dreamer of dreams ; with good, hard com- 
mon sense, he made jjreparations for a journey to be undertaken 
upon the representations of the natives of the country through 
which he was to go, in search of a passage which the most 
learned geographers of the age fully believed to exist. To us, 
who better appreciate the deceitfulness of the Indians, his abso- 
lute trust in them seems as ridiculous as the object o± his expedi- 
tion ; but our knowledge of the country, and its natives, it must 
be remembered, has grown to its present proportions in a time 
longer by two centuries than was accorded to Champlain and 
La Salle. His seignory of lands surrounding Montreal must be 
sold to meet the expenses, for the patent which he obtained only 
authorized an expedition at his own expense. On the sixth of 
July, 1669, while Father Marquette was still only forming plans 
for discovery and conversion in the far southwest, he started up 
the St. Lawrence with fourteen men and four canoes. Thirty 
days afterward, they reached the broad waters of Ontario, and 
skirting the shore to the mouth of the Genesee, remained there a 
month seeking information of the Indians and making treaties 
with them. Continuing on their course, they met Joliet, who 
was then on his way from the copper mines of Michigan, and who 
furnished them with a rude map of the country through which he 
had passed. At the western end of Ontario, they found a Shaw- 
nee captive of the northern tribes, who promised to conduct them 
to the Ohio in six weeks. 

Further record of the expedition have we none. It is only 
known that he explored the Ohio as far down as the rapids at 
Louisville. He learned from the natives that this atream emp- 
tied into that greater river which, according to their account, 
lost itself in the vast lowlands of the south ; perhaps he would 
have continued his journey, but his men deserted in a body, 



LA SALLE. 69 

and he had to make the best of his way, alone, back to Canada — 
a distance of four hundred leagues, requiring nearly a year. 

But his ardor was not damj)ed by failure. He knew that the 
longer expedition which ho now desired to undertake would re- 
quire more caj^ital than he had, or could hope to raise by his per- 
sonal influence. Endeavoring to learn to exercise that patience 
which he knew was so necessary, he watched sharply for his op- 
portunity. He had not long to wait before an opening presented 
itself. The Iroquois had never forgotten the defeats that they had 
suffered when Champlain had aided their enemies, the Algon- 
quins, and had commenced their inroads even before his death. 
Their insane fear of fire-arms had considerably diminished, and 
their hostility had consequently taken a more open form. The 
governor of Quebec began the erection of a chain of forts de- 
signed to resist their entrance into New France, and La Salle 
aspired to the command of one of these. Fort Frontenac, erected 
at the eastern extremity of Lake Ontario, would give great ad- 
vantagesfor the execution of his projects of trade and discovery. 
Fortunate in winning the favor of the governor. Count Fronte- 
nac, who was a man with a strong mind and an equally strong 
will, he went to France in 1675, and laid his plans before the far- 
sighted minister, Colbert, to whom, among other things, the 
colonial affairs had been entrusted. 

Although we have learned but little of La Salle's early years 
in Canada, the reception with which he met would lead us to 
suppose that his life had been one which made him respected 
by all men for his sound sense and steady devotion to work. By 
Colbert's influence, a patent was issued, granting the government 
and territory of Fort Frontenac to La Salle, on condition that he 
rebuild the fort with stone and repay Frontenac for his outlay. 
The garrison was to be maintained at his own expense, and cer- 
tain portions of the land to be cleared. The grant of the land and 
authority, the nobility conferred upon him, and the privileges of 
trade and discovery were the advantages gained by his grant. 

Applying himself diligently to his work, it was not long before 
he had performed his part of the contract, and a massive stone 
fort replaced the old one with its palisades and embankments. 
Trees were felled, fields planted, and gardens, herds and poultry 
yards enlivened the scene. Not neglecting trade, on which he 
depended for the resources to maintain his garrison and repay 
the borrowed money, he built three small barks with decks, with 



70 LA SALLE, 

which to navigate the Ontario and traffic with the savages. Here 
he lived quietly, trading with the Indians, although the stories 
of the discoveries of Marquette and Joliet inflamed him with a 
stronger desire to trace the river which they had explored, and 
which he had never yet seen, to its mouth. His work here was 
only preparatory to the grand enterprise upon which he had so 
long set his heart, and encouraged by Frontenac's approval and 
offers of assistance, he went to France again in 1677, to obtain 
means for his journey. 

Received with the same kindness as before, his requests were 
readily granted, since he asked from the government no money, 
but only a confirmation of his rights, with authority to push his 
discoveries as far as he chose to the westward, and to build forts, 
as he had built Fort Frontenac, wherever he thought proper. 
Besides this generous permission to go where he could and build 
wherever he chose, providing always that he paid his own ex- 
penses, he received a grant of the monopoly of the fur trade with 
all Indians except those that were already accustomed to take 
their furs to Montreal. 

By the recommendation of a nobleman who had promoted his 
suit at court. La Salle took into his service Chevalier de Tonti, 
a man of capacity, courage and resolution, who proved a most 
valuable officer and friend. "With about thirty persons, a quan- 
tity of arms and merchandise, and materials for rigging small 
vessels, he set sail from Eochelle two months after receiving his 
patent, and arriving at Quebec near the end of September, imme- 
diately proceeded to Fort Frontenac. 

The season was now far advanced in this severe northern cli- 
mate, and La Salle made all haste to begin preparations for his 
journey in the spring. He thought it necessary to build a vessel 
above the falls, that he might use the great highway of the lakes, 
and for this purpose Tonti was despatched to find a point in the 
upper part of ^Niagara Eiver, or in Lake Erie, which would serve 
their purpose. Embassadors were also sent to the neighboring 
Indians, since their friendship was necessary to the success of 
the enterprise. Nor was their natural suspicion the only thing 
which he had to combat j jealous of his monopoly, the Canadian 
traders had sent messengers to inform the Indians that his plan 
of building forts was intended to work them evil; as, protected 
in this way, he could compel them to do whatever he might wish. 
Although he was able to counteract these efforts to some degree, 



LA SALLE. 71 

the savages hovered around the ship-builders, and entered the 
camp with a lack of ceremony rather alarming. They refused to 
sell their corn, and plotted to burn the vessel on the stocks. 
Suffering from cold, and often from hunger, fearing always a 
hostile descent of the savages, the men became discontented, and 
it required Father Hennepin's utmost endeavors to allay their 
fears. 

Meanwhile La Salle was at Frontenac, whither he had returned 
after driving the first bolt of the brigantine, endeavoring to 
counteract the efforts of his enemies. Spreading reports that he 
was about to engage in an extremely dangerous undertaking, 
enormously expensive and yielding but little hope of his return, 
their rumors so alarmed his creditors in Quebec and Montreal 
that they seized upon his effects there and sold them out at great 
loss to him. The delay which \vould be necessary to rectify this 
would prevent the success of his expedition, for this year at least ; 
so he submitted patiently to his misfortunes. 

At last the ship was ready, and his other preparations were 
complete. On the seventh of August, 1679, the sails of the Griffin 
were spread to the winds of Lake Erie, and making fearlessly 
for the midst of the great fresh water sea, they descried, on the 
third day, the islands in the western end. A storm beset them 
in Huron, and with the usual bitterness of the followers of great 
explorers, many of his men complained of the dangers into which 
they had been led. They escaped from the storm, however, but 
only to meet with new difficulties. Their first object was to 
make a favorable impression upon the Indians, Vhose friendship 
was so necessary to their success ; but this task was harder than 
they had anticipated. While the natives received and entertain- 
ed La Salle with great civility, and looked in w^onder at the 
great wooden canoe, their show of friendship was more politic 
than sincere, and produced no effect upon their future conduct. 

Nor was this the only disadvantage under which they labored. 
Fifteen men had been sent forward to collect provisions, but had 
been tampered with, and had squandered a part of the merchan- 
dise with which they had been j)rovidcd for trading. However, 
hoping that some would prove faithful to their trust, a belief 
which later events justified, they continued on their course. 

Met at a point on the northern shore of Lake Michigan by 
some of his men, who had accumulated a considerable stock of 
furs. La Salle suddenly determined to make a remittance to his 



72 LA SALLE. 

creditors, and, despite the dissatisfaction of his men, sent the 
brigantine back to Niagara with the skins. Henceforth their 
journey was to be made in canoes. 

The company remaining, after the boat had left them, consist- 
ed of fourteen persons, to be transported in four bark canoes. 
Through either stormy or favorable weather they pursued their 
way until they reached the western end of the lake. Landing 
here, to enjoy a little rest, the foot-prints of men were seen in 
the sand. As La Salle wished to avoid the Indians as much as 
possible, he gave express orders that each should be on his 
guard, and remain perfectly quiet. One enthusiastic sportsman 
could not resist the temptation to shoot a bear which had climbed 
a tree for the grapes growing in great profusion over every such 
support, and the noise of his gun was heard by a party of Fox 
Indians who were hunting near by. Creeping silently to the 
camj), in the night, their presence was discovered and the alarm 
given. But the Indians protested their friendship to the white 
men, alleging that they supposed it to be a party of Iroquois 
whom they thought were in the neighborhood, and who were 
their deadly enemies. It was only to see if their suspicions were 
correct that they had come so near the camp. 

La Salle accepted this explanation, not caring to embroil him- 
self unnecessarily, and allowed them to leave the camp. But 
not long after they had gone, the Frenchmen discovered that a 
coat and some other articles had been stolen. This altered the 
case. If they submitted quietly to this outrage, and allowed the 
theft to go unpunished, it would doubtless be often repeated, 
and La Salle determined to have satisfaction. A short expedi- 
tion into the woods resulted in the capture of two Indians, one of 
whom was despatched to his chief with a message that unless 
the stolen articles were restored, the life of the prisoner would be 
forfeited. The message occasioned considerable perplexity in 
the Indian camp, for the articles had been cut into many pieces 
for distribution ; and they decided that the only resort would be 
to rescue the prisoner by force. Acting upon this decision, they 
attempted a surprise, but their plan was discovered in time for 
the Frenchmen to select and advance to such a position as the 
Indians were not likely to assail. Father Hennepin ascribes the 
bloodless settlement of the trouble to his own valor in going 
among the armed warriors as a peacemaker. Matters were final- 
ly settled to the satisfaction of all concerned, by the Indians pay- 



LA SALLE. 73 

ing for the stolen article? with skins, and in the feasts, dances 
and speeches which followed, the savages exerted their utmost 
ingenuity to show their respect for the French. 

Beaching the rendezvous which had been appointed with Tonti, 
and finding that, contrary to expectation, that party had not yet 
arrived, La Salle had considerably difficulty in detaining his men, 
who wished to push on to the country of the Illinois, that the}^ 
might there obtain the much needed supplies of corn. They were 
now at the mouth of the Miami river, and La Salle wishing to 
keep them employed, knowing well what would be the result of 
idleness, set his men to building a fort upon an admirable site 
which presented itself. The labor of felling trees and raising a 
breastwork of logs,, of sounding the river at its entrance to see 
if it would admit the Griffin, and of marking the main channel 
thus discovered, while messengers were sent to urge the captain 
of the vessel to join them as soon as possible, occupied them until 
the end of JS'ovember. No food could be obtained but bear's 
meat, of which they speedily grew tired, and the danger of mut- 
iny and desertion increased from day to day. 

At last Tonti arrived with his party, bringing two canoes load- 
ed with deer that had been but recently killed, and the unwel- 
come intelligence that the Griffin had never reached Mackinaw, 
nor, indeed, had she ever been heard from. La Salle, having 
waited as long as possible, now determined to set forward, and 
on the third of December the whole party left the fort. Some 
difficulty was experienced in finding the portage. La Salle land- 
ed to make the exploration alone, but marshy ground compelled 
him to made a wide circuit, and night overtaking him, he was 
unable to return until the next day; when, as we may suppose, 
he was heartily welcomed by his anxious followers, who had 
feared that he had met with some accident. At last, the eastern 
Indian who accompanied them found the portage, and after carry- 
ing their csnofs five or six miles, they floated down the Kanka- 
kee, one of the branches of the Illinois. 

We need not follow them, day by day, on this mid-winter voy- 
age through the desolate, marshy country which the Kankakee 
drains. For nearly a month they saw no human habitation or 
roving Indians. It was not until a day or so after Christmas that 
they came upon an Indian village, deserted, since the warriors 
were hunting. Here they found stores of buried corn, Avhich of- 



74 



LA SALLE. 



fered an irresistible temptation to men who for months had had 
no food but flesh. 

It was on the first day of the year 1680 that, entering Lake 
Peoria, and paddling through its whole length, they encountered, 
at its lower end, a party of Indians who had encamped there. 
Sailing boldly to the shore, the sight of the armed strangers 
quickly threw the whole Indian camp into confusion. La Salle 
did not wish to seek hostilities, but he was well aware that any 
appearance of timidity would only invite attack. The savages, 
however, finding that they were not beset, offered calumets, 




MONSO S VISIT, 



which the Prench accepted with secret joy. The remainder of 
the day was passed in confirming the treaty thus begun, and both 
parties retired to rest, entirely satisfied. 

During the night, however, this amicable feeling was destroy- 
ed. Monso, a chief of one of the tribes living near Fox river, 
accompanied by several Miamis, with valuable presents of tools, 
utensils and weapons of steel, came to warn the chiefs of this 
party against La Salle. 

"lie is friend to the Iroquois, and their spy. After him will 
come a Avar-j)arty of that tribe, and he will unite with them to 



LA SALLE. 75 

fight the Illinois. He is a bad man. The French told me this, 
and I tell you because I love the Illinois, and wish them to pro- 
tect themselves against this double-tongued enemy." 

Monso arrived and departed while the French were asleep, and 
it was only by the change in the manner of their hosts that they 
became aware of the intrigue. La Salle, on entering the camp in 
the morning, was puzzled at the coolness with which he was re- 
ceived, ajud had some difficulty in drawing the story from one of 
the chiefs. His efforts to reassure the Indians were only partial- 
ly successful, for one of the chiefs of high rank made a long 
speech dissuading him from his perilous scheme of descending the 
Mississippi. The dangers which would beset them were painted 
in the darkest colors — crocodiles, serpents and frightful mon- 
sters ; falls, rapids and whirlj^ools ; savage and blood-thirsty 
men along its banks, who would suffer no man to descend the 
stream. As the interpreter repeated this speech, La Salle could 
see that his men changed countenance at the fearful picture, be- 
lieving every word that was said. Ho saw, too, what was the mo- 
tive of the Indian, in thus trying to persuade him to turn back. 

" The dangers that you tell of," he answered, gravely, "are 
such as are not found in any river. There are not so many in 
one place. Nikanape himself does not believe all that he has said; 
then how docs he expect that we should think his words true? 
Even if such dangers do lie before us. Frenchmen are brave, and 
will be only the more willing to go on, since the more dangerous 
the enterprise, the greater will be the glory. Nikanape desires 
our welfare, but there is something else at the Tjottom of his 
heart — he is jealous of his white brothers. They have been frank 
and open with him, but he has listened to the words of Monso, 
who crept into the camp at midnight, and stole off before the 
men of whom he had told lies could know he was there. Let 
Nikanape say now if he has any cause for suspecting his white 
brothers, and they will explain all things to him." 

ISTikanape took this reproof in good part, and friendship was 
again complete. But his words had done their work; six of 
La Salle's men deserted, and he was only able to keep the rest 
contented by putting them at work upon a fort near the lake. 
To this he gave a name expressive of the discouragements and 
disasters which they had experienced — Crevecoeur, the Broken 
Heart. 

The contradiction of Nikanape's stories about the dangers and 



76 LA SALLE. 

difficulties of the lower Mississippi, by some wandering Indians 
from the south, greatly encouraged the men, and they worked 
industriously on the fort and on a brigantine which was to trans- 
port them. But with the present means it was impossible to finish 
the boat; more iron, cordage and other materials were needed, 
and La Salle determined to go for them himself. That no time 
might be lost, he j)lanned an exploring exj^edition to the sources 
of the Mississippi, and despatched Father Hennepin with two 
companions, amply supplied with goods to exchange for provis- 
ions, and for conciliatory presents to the Indians, uj)on the long 
voyage. He himself, with three Frenchmen and an Indian, set 
out two days later for the long overland journey of twelve hun- 
dred miles, to be performed on foot, through a country where the 
numerous rivers were swollen by the rains and melting snows. 

Fortune seemed to desert the company when La Salle departed 
from Fort Crevecoeur. On his journey he found an admirable 
site for a fort, and sent word to Tonti, whom he had left in com- 
mand, to construct it. The place chosen was near that village of 
the Illinois which had been deserted when they passed it, and 
from which they had obtained corn. But while Tonti was exe- 
cuting these orders, more than half of his company deserted, 
taking with them such arms and provisions as they could carry. 
Thus weakened by the loss of men and supplies, Tonti could only 
fall back to the great village of the Illinois, there to await the 
return of La Salle. The summer was spent by the soldiers in 
teaching the Indians the use of fire-arms, and some simple mili- 
tary maneuvers ; and by the priests in attempting to communi- 
cate to the savages the doctrine and precepts of Christianity. 

They had been in the camp some six months when it was re- 
ported that an army of four or five hundred Iroquois and Miamis 
was advancing into the Illinois country. La Salle was among 
them, added the messenger, conspicuous by his hat and coat. 
The Illinois cried out against the treachery of the French, threat- 
ening to put to death those who were in the camp. It required 
all Tonti's powers of persuasion to prevent this blow, and he, as 
a* proof of his sincerity, offered to join them, with his compan- 
ions, in an attack upon the enemy. 

The offer was accepted, and when the great superiority of the 
opposing force was known, he was despatched, at his own request, 
as mediator, being attended only by a priest. The hat and jack- 
et, said to be La Salle's, proved to be worn by an Iroquois war^ 



LA SALLE. 77 

rior. The Iroquois made peace, "but afterwards, discovering the 
weakness of their enemies, j)rowled about the village and end- 
eavored to provoke a quarrel. One after another, the Illinois 
warriors stole off, and Tonti and his men, thus left alone and face 
to face with such a formidable enemy, had but one course left 
them; betaking themselves to an old and leaky canoe, without 
provisions or supplies of any kind, they made the best speed they 
could up the river. They had not traveled far before the water 
bi^oke into their canoe so fast that they were forced to leave it, and 
go by land, two hundred miles, to the nearest Indian village, where 
they were certain of finding friends. Subsisting on such roots as 
they could find, without a comj^ass or jjath to guide them, their 
lacerated feet but poorly protected, they were worn out with 
hunger and fatigue when, after a fifteen day's journey, they ar- 
rived at their destination, where they were kindly received, and 
hosj)itably entertained. La Salle arrived at Fort Frontenac to 
find that the machinations of his enemies had succeeded to their 
fullest extent, and that his affairs were in the utmost disorder ; 
but the stern nature of the adventurer, which never asked help or 
counsel of his followers, sustained him through this trial, and he 
soon started off again. It was with a company of fifty-four per- 
sons that he set out again to explore the Mississippi, twentj^-three 
of whom were Frenchmen. The history of their voyage down 
the mighty river is one succession of stories of hospitable wel- 
comes by the Indians. The tribes seemed to vie with each other 
in their kindly entertainment of the strangers. Only one, the 
Quinipissas, received them at all unkindly, but La Salle took no 
notice of the flight of arrows which showed their hostilitj^, and 
they desisted from the attack. Crosses were set up at various 
points upon the way, and at the mouth of the river a column 
was erected, a leaden plate with suitable inscrij^tion buried, and 
the country solemnly taken possession of in the name of the king. 
La Salle wished to form a settlement on the banks of the Mis- 
sissippi, but his ideas growing as time went on, he determined, 
upon arriving at Fort Frontenac, to go to France and ask the as- 
sistance of the government in a more extensive scheme of colon- 
ization than could be carried out without such help. His friend^ 
Count de Frontenac, had been succeeded in the governorship of 
Canada by one La Barre, who, possessed by an insatiable jeal- 
ousy of his predecessor, lost no opportunity of reversing his poli- 
cy and injuring his friends. To the enemies of La Salle, since 



78 LA SALLE. 

that brave and resolute explorer had been so steadily befriended 
by Frontenac, he lent a willing ear, and repeated their calumnies 
to the court. But La Salle had strong and powerful friends in 
Paris, and La Barre's efforts failed. Four ships were fitted out, 
and about two hundred and eighty persons embarked, to settle 
in Louisiana, setting sail in July, 1684. 

Unfortunately for its success, the expedition had two command- 
ers, of extremely different temperaments, and neither disposed 
to yield an inch to the other. Beaujeu, an old sailor and soldier, 
in charge of the navigation of the shij)s, was indignant at being 
under direction of a man who had no military rank; La Salle 
might have soothed his wounded vanity by deferring to his 
judgment, or by at least consulting his opinion ; but reserved 
and cold, he matured his plans in his own mind, and issued his 
orders when they were fully formed. Of course, Beaujeu knew, 
before he accepted the position, that it was but the second in the 
expedition, and that La Salle held no military rank ; but, brood- 
ing over the indignities which he conceived he suffered, and 
offended by La Salle's manner, he thwarted and balked the com- 
mander's plans in every possible way. 

Owing partly to this state of enmity between those chief iv 
command, partly to unavoidable circumstances, the voyage was 
a succession of disasters. One ship was captured by the Span- 
iards; La Salle had made a mistake in calculating the latitude 
when, on his previous expedition, he had reached the mouth of the 
Mississippi, and they anchored in Matagorda bay; one ship was 
wrecked here, and Beaujeu sailed off to France with the third of 
the fleet. 

It was not long before they became involved in difficulties with 
the Indians. A bale of blankets from the wreck had floated to 
the shore and had been approjDriated by the natives, who had 
previously carried off three men, but released them at La Salle's 
application. He thought that it would be a good opj)ortunity to 
get canoes in exchange for the blankets, and the second lieuten- 
ant, Du Hamel, offered to go with a party in his boat to negoti- 
ate. Unfortunately, this officer did not possess that native tact 
in dealing with the savages which enabled La Salle to control 
them; marching fully armed from their landing place to the vil- 
lage, and unable to make themselves understood, the Indians did 
not know whether to look upon them as friends or enemies. 
Their seizure of a parcel of skins and a couple of canoes was look- 



LA S^iLLJi', 79 

ed upon as a declaration of war ', the Indians pursued tliem, over- 
took them in the night at their encampment near the boat, killed 
two and wounded two, and then fled in terror at the discharge 
of a musket. 

This unfortunate event cast a gloom over the minds of all the 
settlers, many beginning to murmur at their condition, and to talk 
of returning to France. Only the stern, unbending spirit of La 
Salle kept them from utter despair; and his resolution sustained 
and encouraged them even in the dark days that were to follow. 
Leaving more than one-half of the hundred and eighty that re- 
mained, to construct a temporary shelter and rude fort of the j)ieces 
of timber that could be obtained from the wreck, and directing the 
captain of one vessel to sail close along the shore. La Salle, with 
a force of fifty men, set out on an exploring expedition, desiring 
to ascertain if this were one mouth of the Mississippi, as he sup- 
posed. 

The colony was soon removed to the mouth of the Lavaca river, 
a point in the south-eastern part of the present state of Texas ; 
La Salle continued his explorations and found that the Mississip- 
pi delta was not anywhere near this location. Summer and au- 
tumn j)assed in exploring the surrounding country, in building a 
fort and houses of the timbers which they had brought from the 
wreck and from trees laboriously cut down and transported from 
the forest; in that task common to all the colonies in the New 
World — burial of the dead. 

With indomitable pluck. La Salle now resolved to obtain help 
from Canada for his colony, and with that purpose in view set out 
with a considerable party in November, 1685. Five months pass- 
ed with privation and discord at Fort St. Louis, as the settlement 
was called ; no man knows what dangers and difiiculties besetting 
the men struggling through the wilderness; at last, discouraged 
and baffled, half of the party returned; the others had perished 
on the way. Fever seized upon the leader, whose spirit was still 
unbroken ; well for him had the disease proved fatal ! But he 
recovered from the slow, wasting sickness ; again his tall form 
and fixed, calm features rose in majesty above the desponding, 
quarreling, discontented crew; again he planned to get holj) from 
Canada ; again, having lost eight men in the canebrakes of Lou- 
isiana, he was forced to return without accomplishing his object. 

But the situation of the colony was too desperate for him to 
despair; he must keep up courage for all; and with unwearied 



80 



LA SALLE. 



patience he again organized an expedition to seek help in the 
north, setting out January 12, 1687. Of the nearly two hundred 
who had landed, but forty-five remained. La Salle was the leader, 
therefore he was the one to blame 3 and with curiously childish 
logic, they would have charged all their misfortunes upon him. 
It was in accordance with this view of the matter that three of 
his comi^anions on this last expedition formed a consj)iracy to de- 
stroy this bane of the colonists. They had already, in a quarrel, 
killed three of the party, and given La Salle to understand that 
the victims had deserted ; and this bloody deed probably sug- 




ASSASSLNATION OF LA SALLE. 



gested that the destruction of the Sieur de la Salle would be a 
preventive of punishment for these murders. But the leader was 
not satisfied at this explanation of the absence of men whom he 
had always known to be trustworthy, and, with Father Anastase, 
and two natives as guides, set out in search of them. The bloody 
cravat of one was found, and the birds of prey, hovering over 
their heads, aroused their suspicions. The conspirators had 
crossed the stream, and, as La Salle fired at the eagles, recrossed. 
As one approached him, he demanded : 

" "Where is Moragnet? " naming one of the murdered men. 



LA SALLE. 81 

" Along the river bank/' was the vague reply, and from the 
musket of his confederate, concealed in the long grass, a ball 
struck La Salle's head. The plan had been carried out, the 
wound was mortal. The firm lips were powerless to utter a word 
during the one hour of life that remained to him ; the strong hand 
could only feebly press that of Father Anastase, in token that the 
brain still comprehended the words of Christian consolation. On 
a spot unknown now, known then only to a priest and the assas- 
sins, died Robert Cavelier, Sieur de la Salle ; a man who had ex- 
plored half a continent, and who is not surpassed by any in his 
indomitable will and great achievements; "constant in adversities, 
intrepid, generous, engaging, adroit, skillful, and capable of any- 
thing ;" in the prime of life, in the midst of his labors, without 
having tasted the fruit of his toil ; noble in aim, in character, in 
person j too far above those around him in capacity, too haughty 
and imperious in manner ; he died, the victim of the machina- 
tions of jealous enemies, of his own energy and virtues, and of his 
own faults. Such were really the three powers that conspired 
against his life ; three distinct elements blended in one by the 
hatred of jealous, unreasoning, unmanageable subordinates. 



CHAPTER m. 



CAPTAm JOHN" SMITH. 

THE early history of Caj)t. John Smith, the Englishman 'vhose 
name is so closely connected with the first permanent settle- 
ment made by his countrymen within our borders, is a series of 
adventures equalled only by those of the Seven Champions of 
Christendom and Jack the Griant--Killer. Whether they are 
equally as authentic, we have no means of determininq;. but the 
more probable events of that part of his life shall be briefly 
sketched out, and the reader may believe as much as he chooses. 
Injustice to the authorities who state these adventures as undoubt- 
ed facts, let us remember that he is universally conceded to have 
been such a spirit as would naturally seek exciting scenes; that 
his age was the age of romantic deeds; that the actions of his la- 
ter life showed qualities that could have been developed only by 
a course of training so^iiewhat similar to that which he is said to 
have enjoyed. 

In 1592, at the age of thirteen, he had disposed of all his bo}-- 
ish property in order to equip himself for a sea-voj^age, to be 
commenced before his parents should he aware of his plans ; but 
they died when his arrangements were still incomplete, leaving 
him a considerable estate. The trip was only deferred, however, 
and two years later, finding the counting-house desk at which he 
had been placed as little to his liking as school, he embarked for 
the continent with the son of a nobleman. Leaving this young 
gentleman's train, he went to the Low Countries and served as a 
soldier there for three or four years ; returning to England, to 
his old home, he lived for some time in a lodge in a wood, study- 
ing military history and tactics, and supplied with all the luxu- 
ries of civilization by a faithful servant. . 

He soon became tired of this almost solitary life, however, and 
returned to the continent, but was so unfortunate as to be robbed 
on his way from the Netherlands to France; so that on his arri- 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 



83 



val in the latter country, lie must sell his cloak to j^ay for his 
passage. Embarking for Italy, the devout Catholics in the ves- 
sel attributed the violent tempest which arose to the presence of the 
heretic, and Smith was thrown overboard. He had but little diflS.- 
culty, however, in swimming to an island near by, where he was 
soon picked uj) by a less devout sea-captain. A chance encoun- 
ter with a Venetian vessel resulted in its destruction, and the 




CAPT Alls' JOHN KMITH. 

division of its cargo among the conquerers. Smith's share 
amounted to something over two thousand dollars of our money, 
and with this sum he traveled for a while in Italy. 

But he soon gratified his curiosity b^^the sights to be seen here, 
and departed to the court of the Archduke of Austria, who was 
then waging war with Turkey. This was in the latter part of 
tlie year 1601. The Turkish army laid siege to Olympach, and 
were much harassed by an Austrian force surrounding them. If 
6 



84 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 

the two armies, the garrison and that outside, could co-operate, 
success would be almost certain ; but no one would venture to 
pass the Turkish lines. Smith had already explained to the com- 
mander of the garrison a system of signals by torches, invented by 
a classical author; and he now declared himself ready to spell 
out any message which it was desired to send to the besieged 
commander. The entire success of his plan won for him the com- 
mand of a troop of two hundred and fifty men. 

In more than one similar expedient he was equally fortunate ; 
his inventive and adaptive genius showed itself strongly at this 
time, and was cultivated for the necessities of his after life. 
Leaving the service of the arch-duke, and entering that of anoth- 
er prince, who was contending with Germany and the Turks at 
once. Smith was one day in camj) when a Turk of rank and re- 
nown sent to challenge any one of the Christians to fight with 
him " to delight the ladies, who did long to see some courtlike 
pastime." So many were ready to accept this challenge, that 
their claims had to be decided by lot, and Smith was the cham- 
pion thus selected. Is'ot only did this Turk fall by his hand, but 
another who would have avenged his friend's death, and a third 
whom Smith challenged, met the same fate. Suitable honors re- 
warded him, one being a coat of arms bearing three Turks' heads 
on a shield, and a Latin motto : " To conquer is to live." 

In a battle shortly after this, Smith was wounded and left for 
dead on the field. The Turks caj)tured him, and concluding, from 
the richness of his armor, that he was a nobleman, took some 
pains to cure him in order to obtain a large ransom for him. 
Learning their mistake, they sold him as a slave ; and he was 
bought by an ofiicer and j)resented to his lady-love. Tliis fair 
Turk, whose name is unpronounceable, fell violently in love with 
Smith, and in order to protect him from her mother's ill-treat- 
ment, sent him to her brother. To this brother she confessed her 
affection for the handsome young slave, hoping that it would in- 
fluence him to kindness ; but it had the opjDOsite effect. Smith's 
condition was made so unendurable that he determined to escape. 
He at last succeeded in doing so, having killed his master in an 
ungovernable rage excited by ill-treatment. 

He had hardly reached Christian lands again, and thus become 
safe from pursuit, before he set sail to the African coast, to take 
part in a civil war that had broken out in Barbary. He had pru- 
dently reserved his choice of party until he should know the 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 85 

merits of each, and finding that both were equally unworth}^, 
sailed back to Europe in the same vessel in which he came. 
Weary of his wandering life, he returned to England in 1604, and 
settling on his j)aternal estates, spent a few years in peace. 

Within the past twenty years, various Englishmen had, at dif- 
ferent times, received permission to colonize jSTorth America, but 
none had been successful in the enterprise. In 1606, a new com- 
pany was formed for this purpose, and a charter procured from 
King James I. That monarch took an active interest in the ex- 
pedition, and busied himself in framing a code of laws for their 
government. The summer was spent in preparations, and Dec. 
19, 1606, a squadron of three small vessels, with one hundred and 
five colonists on board, besides the sailors, left London. Among 
the more important men were Captains Gosnold and Smith, Ed- 
ward M. Wingfield, a London merchant, Eichard Ilakluyt, who 
had been one of Sir Walter Ealeigh's colonists, and Mr. Eobert 
Hunt, a clergyman. There were twelve laborers, four carpenters 
and forty-eight " gentlemen." 

Dissensions sprang up during the voyage. As the names and 
instructions of the council appointed for their local government 
had, by the folly of James, been sealed in a box not to be oiiencd 
until they landed, no competent authority existed to check the 
progress of envy and disorder. Their detention of six weeks off 
the coast of England, on account of contrary winds, did not prove 
a favorable beginning of the voyage ; and the commander of the 
squadron chose the very indirect route by way* of the Canary 
islands. On their arrival at these islands, the flames of discord 
broke out with renewed fury, and Captain Smith, whose reputa- 
tion and manner had made him extremely popular with the main 
body of the colonists, suffered from the envy of their leaders. He 
was charged with entering into a conspiracy to murder the council, 
usurp the government and make himself king of "Virginia. As the 
sealed box was in their own hands, it does not appear how Smith 
was to be sure that he had chosen the proper victims ; neither is it 
quite clear how a man of ordinary common sense could expect 
to maintain himself as king of Yirginia without any outside aid, 
against the Indians, who might prove hostile j but the absurdity 
of these charges was overlooked, and he was kept a close pris- 
oner during the rest of the voyage. 

It was not until the twenty-sixth of April that they came in 
sight of the mainland of North America, naming the point Cape 



86 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 



Henry, in honor of the Prince of Wales. Sailing np the James 
river for forty miles, they found a country more beautiful than 
any they had ever seen. It was fertile and well watered, the 
landscape picturesquely varied with hills, valleys, and plains, all 
newly decked with the loveliness of spring. Landing at Point 
Comfort on the fourth day after their arrival, they were approach- 
ed by five Indians ; who at first seemed afraid of the strangers, 
but were easily re-assured. A visit to their town was proposed ; 
accepting the invitation, the Indians gave them corn-bread, to- 
bacco and pipes, and entertained them with a dance. 

On the thirteenth of May, they pitched on a place for their set- 




BIJn.DINQ OF JAMESTOWN. 

tlement, a peninsula on the north side of the James, about forty 
miles from the mouth. The mysterious sealed box was opened, 
and the names of the council ascertained. It is curious that al- 
most the first act of this council should have been one of disobed- 
ience to their sui)erior power ; for, although Captain Smith was 
expressly named as one of their number, they excluded him from 
all share in the government of the colony. 

All hands set to work. The council planned a fort, but the 
president, "Wingfield, would not tolerate the erection of any forti- 
fications, exeept a half-moon of the boughs of trees. A " clearing," 
to anticipate an expression used later in our history, was made 
in the forest, their tents were pitched, garden-land prepared. 



CArTAiN JOHN SMITH. 87 

nets made, and every thing done to prepare for the security and 
welfare of the colony. Soon after, jSTewport and Smith, with a 
party of twenty, were sent out to discover the head of James 
river. The fact that Smith's exclusion from the council did not 
render him unwilling to do everything in his power to benefit the 
colonists shows what manner of man he was. This expedition 
is rendered interesti]% by the fact that they visited Powhatan, 
the famous chief of the near future, during their absence; and won 
his gratitude by the present of a hatchet. The savages were in- 
clined to murmur at this intrusion upon their domains, but 
the chief concealed his fears, only saying to them : 

" They hurt you not; they take but a little waste land." 

On their return, they found that the colony had suffered from 
the carelessness of the president in not providing it with a suf- 
ficient defense ; for the Indians had attacked it, wounding seven- 
teen men and killing one boy. The fire-arms alarmed the In- 
dianSj and compelled them to retreat ; and the president, wise by 
sad experience, took steps to enable the Englishmen to defend 
themselves. 

Captain Newport was now ready to return to England, and a 
strong effort was made to send Captain Smith thither to be repri- 
manded by the council there, his enemies claiming that this would 
be an act of kindness to him, as it would avoid the publicity of a 
legal trial, which might injure his reputation and endanger his 
life. Smith was not to be deceived by their pretended anxiety 
for his welfare and safety, however ; ho knew that he could not 
be convicted of any crime except by a perversioh of justice, and 
he trusted to his popularity in the colony to j^revcnt this. He 
accordingly insisted upon being tried, was acquitted by acclama- 
tion, and his chief accuser. President Wingfield, sentenced to pay 
a fine of two hundred pounds. This seems to have been some- 
what in the nature of " damages," for Smith had the entire dis- 
posal of it, turning it over, as an act of generosity, to the general 
fund of the colony. 

On the fifteenth of June, Caj^tain Newport sailed for England. 
By this time the colonists had learned something of what diffi- 
culties they must ovei'come, what hardships they must endure. 
The fertility of the soil rendered the toil of cultivation greater, 
although the harvest would be more plentiful ; the summer heat 
was intolerable to the laborers accustomed to a more equable 
climate, and, in conjunction with the moisture, generated dis- 



88 CAi^TAiN John smith. 

ease ; their stock of provisions was nearly exhausted. Unaccus- 
tomed to work and to privation, they sank rapidly under this 
accumulation of troubles ; so that, by the end of June, " hardly 
ten ofthein were able to stand." Such were the difficulties of 
their position, the imperfect shelter, the unusually hard work, 
the unaccustomed heat, the scanty and insufficient food, the sud- 
den change from the comforts enjoyed in a l^hly civilized coun- 
try to the labor and exposure of the wilderness, that fifty of 
their number died during the summer. 

The president and another member of the council had convert- 
ed the best of the public stores to their own use, and had plotted 
to escape to England in the colony's bark. Smith was gradually 
rising to his proper position — that of the first place in the colony. 
Given a company of men under any pressing need of assistance 
from each other, and the one best fitted to give that aid will be 
their head, as surely as cork rises to the surface of the water. 
The pressure of circumstances had hitherto kept Smith a sub- 
ordinate, but he was rapidly assuming the position due to his 
character and abilities. Only three members of the council were 
left after Wingfield and his accomplice had been expelled from 
that body ; and of these two were extremely unpopular. Surely 
that ruler who can retain the affections of a people discontented 
with their circumstances must have a genius for government ! 

Smith's words and deeds soon re-animated the colonists ; tak- 
ing upon himself the most laborious part of the work, he soon had 
sufficient shelter for them from the ajjproaching winter; their 
stock of provisions being well-nigh exhausted, he resolved to make 
search for a fresh supply. Proceeding by water, with only five 
or six men, to where Hampton now stands, he fell in with some 
Indians and endeavored to get food from them. But the cunning 
savages knew very well the state of affairs at Jamestown, and 
would mockingly offer the poor half-starved Englishmen a hand- 
ful of corn, or a morsel of bread, in exchange for guns and cloth- 
ing. This was not to be borne, and the Indians retreated hastily 
into the woods before a volley of musketry. Marching to their 
houses, he found plenty of corn, but would not permit his men to 
touch it, as he expected the Indians to return with a large force 
to attack them. In this he was not disappointed. A body of 
sixty or seventy warriors, horrid in war-paint, and bearing a 
singular idol of stuffed and painted skins, soon appeared, singing 
and dancing, armed Avith bows and arrows and clubs. A second 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 89 

volley dispersed them in terror, bringing several to the ground 
and prostrating their idol. This latter loss was not to be endur- 
ed, and a priest was sent to negotiate for the restoration of the 
monster. Smith told them that if six of them would come un- 
armed and load his boat with corn, he would not only return 
their idol, but give them beads and hatchets besides. They joy- 
fully accepted these terms and brought not only corn, but turkeys, 
venison and wild fowl in large quantities. 

We may imagine the welcome which Smith received on his re- 
turn; but it was a gratitude that did not prompt them to save 
dim trouble or danger. Their wastefulness was so great that 
many such journeys must be made during the fall, although the 
Indians were now so amicably disposed that they met him with 
baskets of corn as he landed. His absence from the colony was 
like the turning of the school teacher's back — everything was in 
confusion at once. Wingfield and Kendall renewed their plot for 
escaping to England, and although this project was nipped in the 
bud by Smith's unexpectedly early return, it was not done with- 
out a skirmish, in which Kendall was killed. An attempt of two 
others to abandon the country was also frustrated by Smith's 
power and influence. The quaint old chronicler tells us : " The 
Spaniard never more greedily desired gold than he victual, nor 
his soldiers more to abandon the country than he to keep it." 

The influence of plentiful food was soon apparent. At the ap- 
proach of winter, the river was covered with wild-fowl, and the 
Indians supplied them bountifully with corn, beans and pump- 
kins. This abundance of good cheer raised their s|5irits and cured 
their home-sickness; and for a little while the colony enjoyed 
peace. 

The South Sea was considered the ocean-path to every kind of 
wealth. The western coast of the continent had been explored 
by the Spaniards and by Drake, and the maps of that day exhib- 
ited a tolerably accurate delineation of JSTorth America; but with 
singular ignorance, the colonists had been directed to seek com- 
munication with the Soiitli Sea by ascending a river that flowed 
from the northwest. Such a stream was the Chickahominy, and 
up this Smith proceeded on an exploring expedition ; leaving the 
helpless colony to itself unwillingly enough, but driven to the 
task by the rebukes of the council for his dilatorincss in obeying 
the injunctions of his superiors. Ascending as far as his barge 
could float, sometimes being obliged to cut a way through the 



90 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 



trees that had fallen into the river, he left the vessel in charge of 
the main party, with strict injunctions not to leave it, and with 
two Englishmen as companions, and two Indians as guides, as- 
cended still farther in a canoe. Leaving this boat in the care of 
the two white men, he proceeded to the head of the river, twenty 
miles farther on, and occupied himself in shooting game. 




.SMITH SUKFIlItSKD BY THE SAVAGES. 



Almost as a matter of course, his orders were disregarded by 
the men left at the barge, and they went straggling into the 
woods. Here they were suddenly attacked by Opechancanough, 
brother of Powhatan, with a force of three hundred men. One 
of their number was taken prisoner, and the others had consid- 
erable difficulty in escaping. The Indians extorted from their 
prisoner all that he knew of Captain Smith's whereabouts, and 
then put him to death in the most barbarous manner. Follow- 
ing the path of the leader, they came upon the two men left in 
charge of the canoe, sleeping by a fire, and killed them. Smith 
was wounded in the thigh by an arrow, but using one of his 



CAPTAIN JOHN SiyHTH. 91 

guides as a shield, by desperate fighting, killed three Indians 
and wounded many others. He might have succeeded in escap- 
ing, but paying more attention to his enemies than to the line of 
retreat, he sank waist-deep in a morass. Even here, such was 
the terror inspired by his courage and his gun, that they dared 
not approach him, until, being almost dead with cold, he threw 
away his arras and surrendered himself. 

As they led him to the fire, and chafed his benumbed limbs, 
he was in momentary expectation of a cruel death, but his pres- 
ence of mind did not desert him. He knew that any exhibition 
of fear or of a desire for life, would do him harm rather than 
good. "Without thus incurring their contempt he demanded to 
see their chief. Displaying to Opechancanough a pocket com- 
pass, he amused him and the Indians that gathered around by 
an explanation of its powers ; the vibrations of the needle and 
the transparency of the glass were alike wonderful. Smith fur- 
ther tried to explain to them the courses of the heavenly bodies, 
the spherical shape of the earth, the alternation of day and 
night, the extent of the continents and oceans, the relative posi- 
tions of nations and their antii3odes, and many other every day 
matters (to us) which were doubtless extremely wonderful to 
the savages, always providing that they understood one-half of 
what he told them. 

Led in a sort of triumphal procession to their chief town, he 
was served so liberally with provisions that he thought they 
must intend to kill and eat him as soon as he was sufficiently fat, 
and the pi'ospect did not tend to sharpen his appetite. The 
winter was an unusually severe one on both continents, and Smith 
was neai-ly perishing with the cold, when an Indian to whom, on 
his first arrival, he had given some beads and trinkets, brought 
him a fur garment, a most acceptable gift. 

The Indians were making great preparations for an attack on 
Jamestown, and wished Smith to help them; promising him as a 
reward for such service, not only life and liberty, but as much 
land and as many women as ho could wish. He knew only too well 
what must be the confusion prevailing in Jamestown, and endeav- 
ored to dissuade them from their purpose, describing to them the 
dangers which they must face, from the springing of mines 
and from the warlike engines. But his efforts were not com- 
])letely successful until he had proven the truth of his words. 
They assented to his proposition to send messengers to the colony, 



92 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 

and he wrote a note, telling his countrymen of the danger that 
threatened, desiring them to send him certain articles, and 
instructing them to give the messengers a wholesome fright. He 
told the Indians what would happen to them, but they only 
half believed him; but when, on reaching the neighborhood of 
Jamestown, they saw men coming out to meet them, they turned 
and fled in dismay, for the first of his prophecies had been ful- 
filled ; fortunately in their flight they had dropped the note. 
Coming back cautiously in the evening, they found the very 
things that Smith had told them would be sent to him. "When 
they returned to camp, and made known the wonderful adven- 
ture, the Indians concluding that a man who "could make the 
paper speak," was not to be trifled with, laid aside all thoughts 
of attacking Jamestown, and carried him about the country in 
triumph, exhibiting him to the various tribes. 

It was very hard for them to decide whether he was a good or 
an evil spirit ; it was only certain that he was a being of a higher 
order. In order to determine his nature, they practiced incanta- 
tions about him for three days, but, it seems, without any result. 
It was reserved for Powhatan, the brother of Opechancanough, and 
a council of warriors to decide his fate. The verdict was death, 
and they prepared to execute the sentence without delay. Two 
large stones were brought in, and his head placed upon them. 
The immense clubs were raised by the savage executioners, who 
looked for their chief to give the signal for the blow, when the 
"tenne or twelve years old daughter" of Powhatan sprang for- 
ward and laid her own head upon the captive's, so that the blow 
must first kill her. He had easily won her aff'ections, the diff'er- 
ence between his personal appearance and that of her kinsmen 
perhaps first attracting her childish eyes ; but her entreaties had 
not availed ; now, however, she clung to his neck, refusing to 
leave him until his safety should be assured. The story has been 
doubted ; disproved almost as conclusively, to a sceptical mind, 
as that of William Tell and the apple, or George Washington and 
his hatchet; but it rests on Smith's own authority, being found 
in his work on Virginia; and one Avould think that he ought to 
know. 

Pocahontas not only saved Smith's life, but procured his libei'ty. 
With the childish superstition of an untutored race, the Indians 
looked upon her interference as dictated by some higher power, 
and Powhatan released him, on condition that two pieces of can- 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 



93 



non and a grindstone be sent to liim. Arrived safely at James- 
town, Smith ordered two demi-culverins to be loaded with stones 
and fired into a group of trees covered with icicles, as an evidence 
of their power. As the boughs and ice came rattling down, the 
frightened Indians decided that the guns would be too heavy, 
and gladly accepted a few trinkets in their place. 




SMITH SAVED BY POCAHOXTAS. 

As usual when he returned after any absence, Smith found the 
colony in the utmost confusion ; one party having determined to 
go back to England. Captain Smith, however, brought his can- 
non to bear upon the bark, threatening to sink her if they per- 
sisted in going. In revenge for this, several of them formed a 
conspiracy to j)ut him to death, saying that he had led to death 



94 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 

the three men killed when he was captured, and was consequently 
guilty of their murder; but Smith soon showed them their weak- 
ness and his strength. The colonists were encouraged by the 
plentiful supply of provisions with which they were now fur- 
nished by the Indians, Pocahontas with her attendants visiting 
them every few days, and bringing them an abundance of food. 
The other savages, also, brought in corn, and sold it to Smith at 
his own price. 

This i)rosperity was destroyed oy the action of ISTewport, who, 
with ostentatious prodigality, gave them many times as much 
fortheir goods as Smith would allow them. The president and 
council, also, jealous of Smith's popularity, pursued the same 
course. 

A destructive fire broke out in Jamestown not long after New- 
port's arrival, and occasioned them a considerable loss in arms, 
bedding, wearing apparel and provisions. The ship remained 
fourteen weeks, instead of two, the crew gathering up the sand 
and earth in which the glittering mica resembled gold ; and with 
this increased number for so long a time, and the necessity of 
victualling the ship with no stingy hand, lest the sailors f)revent 
others from joining them, they ran very short of food. 

For some time after the departure of the vessel, the colonists 
were considerably annoyed by the Indians. Powhatan, reading 
Newport's character readily, sent him twenty fat turkeys, with a 
request for as many swords in return. Meeting with success, he 
tried the same plan with Captain Smith ; disappointed here, he 
ordered his warriors to hover around Jamestown and take pos- 
session of the Englishmen's weapons whenever possible. The 
colonists had received strict orders to remain at peace with the 
Indians, and " this charitable humor prevailed till well it chanced 
they meddled with Captain Smith." As a consequence of his 
jDrompt and energetic action, Powhatan sent to sue for peace, dis- 
claiming the acts of his warriors. Pocahontas was one of the 
messengers, and for her sake only, as he pretended, Captain Smith 
consented to liberate the prisoners he had taken and conclude 
a peace. 

The arrival of the Phcenix aroused them to new activity, not 
only from the ample stock of provisions which it brought, but 
from the influence of the commander, Captain Nelson, whose 
generous and manly conduct ably seconded Smith's efforts. In 
Juno, 1608, this vessel set sail for England, accompanied a short 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 95 

distance by Smith, who, with a party of fourteen men, had been 
sent to explore the coast. Parting with the Phoenix at Cape 
Henr}', they explored the bay as far as the Potomac, and returned 
July 21st. Although in Jamestown only three days before set- 
ting out on another exjjedition, Smith was during that shprt in- 
terval elected president, being thus accorded the honors where 
he had so long done the work. On neither the first or second ex- 
pedition did they meet with any adventures of particular interest, 
although on the second they were often attacked by parties of 
Indians. These fights, however, resulted always in the same 
Avay — the repulse of the red men with no loss on the part of the 
whites. Smith and his party returned to Jamestown early in 
September, having, in three months, sailed about three thousand 
miles, and explored the whole coast of Chesapeake Bay. The 
map which he drew is, even in the light of modern geographical 
knowledge, of considerable accuracy. 

Soon after their return, Captain JSTewport arrived with new in- 
structions from the council in England. Like many of the others 
interested in the colony, he was very jealous of Captain Smith, 
and had induced the company in England to grant him such pow- 
ers as would enable him to gratify his own conceit and outdo the 
exjDloits of his rival. He obtained from them a special commis- 
sion to act independently of the council ofVirginia in organizing 
an expedition to accomplish one of three purposes: either to find 
a lump of gold, to discover a certain passage to the Pacific, or to 
obtain information of the lost colonists of Boanoke. They prob- 
ably stated the desired ends in what they thought the order of 
their importance. As the party would be obliged to pass through 
Powhatan's country, they sent as conciliatory presents a bed and 
chair of state, a suit of scarlet clothes, a cloak and a crown. A 
barge, which was so built that it could easily be taken to pieces 
and put together again, had been provided for the trip. 

Smith saw at a glance the difiiculties which would beset them, 
as, weakened by privation and disease, they attempted, in mid- 
winter, to make their way through an unknown country, full of 
merciless enemies. Then, too, he said, Powhatan could alwaj's 
be bought by a piece of copper or a few beads, while these pres- 
ents would give him so great an idea of his own importance as 
to make him unendurably insolent for the future. Notwithstand- 
ing his arguments, however, the council decided to despatch 
Captain Newport with a hundred and twenty chosen men, leaving 



96 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 

only eighty or ninety weak and sickly ones behind, to load the 
ship. This expedition returned to the colony disheartened, be- 
fore a week had passed. 

The ship, on its last arrival, had brought over new immigrants, 
among whom were two women, the first who had come to the 
colony. The greater part of the men were so-called "gentle- 
men" — men ashamed to work, but not ashamed to get money by 
any other means. Incited by the words and example of the pres- 
ident, however, who worked with them, many of them set to work 
felling trees ; so great was their profanity while engaged in this 
labor, especially trying to their delicate hands, that Smith kept 
a record of each one's oaths during the day, and poured the same 
number of cans of cold water down the offender's sleeve at night. 
This original punishment soon effected the desired end, but there 
were many other difiiculties to contend with, resulting like this 
from the kind of men sent out by the company. 

The suj)plies of food received from the Indians were exceeding- 
ly scanty and uncertain, and Smith desired to put the colony 
beyond the danger of want. He accordingly formed the plan of 
making Powhatan his prisoner, knowing that by this means he 
could force the Indians to provide him amj)ly with food. For 
this purpose, he proposed to go to Kecoughtan, and was making 
preparations when Powhatan sent an invitation to the white 
men to visit him; with a promise that he would load their ship 
with corn, if they would build him a house and give him a grind- 
stone, fifty swords, some muskets, a cock and a hen, and a large 
quantity of beads and copper. But the men sent to build the 
house betrayed Smith's intentions to Powhatan, and the wily 
savage was put upon his guard. 

Smith set out with a party of forty-six volunteers to execute 
his purpose, and was liberally entertained by Powhatan, who 
gave no intimation of his knoivledge of the plot against himself. 
He disposed his warriors so carefully, however, that Smith did 
not find it prudent to attack him. The Indians jjrepared to fall 
upon the English and destroy them that night, as they were en- 
camped near Kecoughtan. " Notwithstanding, the eternal, all- 
seeing God did prevent him, and by a strange means. For Poca- 
hontas, his dearest jewel and daughter, in that dark night, came 
through the irksome woods, and told our captain great cheer 
should be sent us bye and bye; but Powhatan, and all the power 
he could make, would after come kill us all, if they that brought 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 97 

it could not kill us with our own weapons, while we were at 
supper. Therefore, if we would live, she wished us presently to 
be gone. Such things as she delighted in he would have given 
her; but with the tears running down her cheeks, she said she 
durst not be seen to have any; for, if Powhatan should know it, 
she were but dead; and so she ran away by herself, as she came." 
Could anything be added to the simple words of the old chron- 
icle to make the picture more touching ? It was impossible for 
the English to return to Jamestown until the tide should change, 
and they remained where they were, so on their guard that no 
blow Avas struck; and the party soon departed for Pamunkey. 

No sooner were the Englishmen out of sight than Powhatan 
sent two of the German builders, whose treachery was wholly un- 
suspected by Smith, to impose a plausible story upon the English 
at Jamestown. Everything was going well, they said, but Cap- 
tain Smith had need of some weapons, ammunition and clothing. 
These were given to them without any hesitation, and, with six 
or seven of the more timid colonists whom they prevailed upon 
to join them, they returned to Kecoughtan. This trick, together 
with their peculiar dexterity in stealing, and the skill of one of 
their number who was a blacksmith, added to the stores of Pow- 
hatan the much-desired weapons of the white men. 

The visit to Pamunkey had very nearly resulted in the same 
way as that to Kecoughtan would have ended but for the inter- 
ference of Pocahontas. OjDechancanough was frightened into 
providing them with sufficient corn, but while he was still enter- 
taining them with the greatest professions of friendship, seven 
hundred warriors surrounded the house, fully armed, ready to 
shoot the first Englishman that appeared. The treacherous sav- 
age endeavored to quiet Smith's suspicions, and invited him to 
come outside ihe door to receive a present. Caj)tain Smith, who 
strongly suspected his perfidious purpose, no longer restrained 
his indignation, but seizing him by his long scalp-lock, and clap- 
ping his pistol to his breast, led him out trembling into the midst 
of his people. The result was an immediate surrender of their 
arms, and a most plentiful supply of food ; they thronged around 
Captain Smith with their commodities, in such numbers, for two 
or three hours, that he became absolutely tired out with the bar- 
tering, although the corn was readily sold at the price he fixed. 
Falling asleep after this labor, the Indians showed their sincerity 
by attacking his party, but were sj^eedily routed. 



98 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 

Leaving Pamunkey upon receipt of the sad intelligence that 
eleven of the colonists had been drowned, Smith returned to 
Jamestown by way of Kecoughtan. Powhatan had commanded 
his subjects, on pain of death, to kill Captain Smith by some 
means or other, while the Englishman had not yet given up the 
idea of capturing the chief. Both parties were so on the alert that, 
although there were many stratagems, none succeeded. Pow- 
hatan could not induce the Indians to attack the settlers openly, 
on account of their terror of fire-arms ; and they were ready to 
propitiate by loads of provisions if they had any reason to sus- 
pect Smith of hostility toward them. The most important 
stratagem of those mentioned was the attempt to poison their 
guests; which, fortunately for all the white men in Virginia, 
was unsuccessful. 

Arriving at Jamestown, Smith found, as usual, that no work 
had been done during his absence. Their provisions had been 
much injured by the rain, and many of their tools and weapons 
had been stolen by the Indians. The new charter which had 
recently taken the place of the original one, gave much more 
power to the president, who had previously been to a great 
degree under the control of the council. While this was an 
evil, because it admitted of such gross abuses as only the one-man 
power can, it worked for good under the wise administration of 
Smith. The food already on hand, together with that recently 
obtained from the Indians, was enough to keep them for a year, 
properly used, and they were rigorously prohibited from wast- 
ing it. Six hours a day must be spent in labor by each man, 
while, previously, thirty or forty industrious men had worked 
hard to maintain the idlers, numbering three times as many. 

From time to time they missed powder, shot, arms and tools, 
and for a long period were unable to account for the continual 
lessening of such stores. At last they discovered that these arti- 
cles were secretly conveyed to the Germans who were with Pow- 
hatan, by confederates in the town. Four or five of these at- 
tempted to desert, but meeting some of their comrades in the 
woods, went back, to disarm suspicion. At about the same time, 
forty or fifty Indians were lying in ambush about a mile from 
Jamestown, waiting to attack Captain Smith. He had already 
been informed that one of the Germans was in the wood, and 
with a party of twenty, marched to the place where he was said 
to be; but did not find him. Despatching his followers to inter- 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 



99 



cept the renegade on his way back to Kecoughtan, Smith, armed 
only with a sword, returned alone towards Jamestown. 

His disregard of his own safety had nearly resulted fatally, for 
he had not been long out of the hearing of his own men before he 
met the gigantic and powerful chief of the Pashiphays, a tribu- 
tary of Powhatan's and leader of the warriors in ambush. He at 










DESPERATE FIOIIT WTTII THE CIHEF OF THE PASIUPHAYS. 

first tried, by cunning, to get Smith within range of the arrows 
of his men, but failing in this, attempted to shoot him. The bow 
was strung, the arrow fitted to its place, when Smith suddenly 
grappled with him, and the two struggled for dear life. Each 
must bend his every power to prevent his antagonist from gain- 
7 



100 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 

ing the mastery • relax his grasp a moment, to seize a weapon, 
and he was a doomed man. But the superior strength of the huge 
savage was gradually making itself felt, and Smith could feel 
himself being dragged to the river. At last, notwithstanding his 
efforts, both were in the water, the Indian trying to drown the 
white man. A despairing clutch at the throat of the savage near- 
ly strangled him, and as he relaxed his hold a moment. Smith 
drew his sword. The dusky giant no longer resisted, but begged 
most piteously for his life. Captain Smith led him prisoner to 
Jamestown and put him in chains. 

Captain Smith made an effort to exchange his captive for the 
Germans who were with Powhatan, but they refused to come, 
and the chief Avould not force them. While negotiations were 
slowly j)rogressing, the captive chief escaped from Jamestown, 
and the Englishmen had no prisoner to exchange. 

Captain Smith next went on an expedition against the Pashi- 
phays, to punish them for past misconduct and to frighten them 
into good behavior in the future. Several of the Indians were 
killed, their houses were burned, and their canoes and fishing- 
weii's taken, some of the latter being fixed at Jamestown. As he 
was returning, he was assaulted by a party of them, who threw 
down their arms and sued for peace when they saw who it was. 
Peace was made on condition that they would supply him with 
provisions, which they gladly did. 

On his return to Jamestown, Smith found that the Indians had 
been guilty of various thefts; among other things, a pistol had, 
been stolen, and the thief had escaped with his booty. His two^ 
brothers, however, were still at their usual home, and were ar- 
rested and brought to Jamestown. Thence one was sent to the 
thief, with the message that if the pistol were not restored before 
midnight, the third brother, who was kept a prisoner, would be 
hanged. The prisoner was placed in a dark, cold dungeon, 
where Captain Smith, pitying his condition as, naked, he lay 
shivering and hungry, sent him food and some charcoal to make 
a fire. 

It was nearly midnight before the messenger returned, trem- 
bling lest he should be too late. The pistol was restored, and 
the dungeon opened to liberate the captive— he lay upon the 
floor, motionless, cold. The poor messenger, who iiad used his 
utmost speed to save his brother, broke into the wildest lamen- 
tations over his body. Smith knew that the swoon resulted from 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 101 

a neglect to open the barred window to let the fumes of the char- 
coal escape, and told the mourner that he would restore his bro- 
ther. Brandy and vinegar brought back his consciousness, but 
his mind was so confused that his brother was as much alarmed 
as ever. A night's sleep, however, restored him fully, and the 
wondering savages were dismissed, with a present, to spread the 
story of the dead restored to life by Captain Smith. 

Another incident, about the same time, taiight them that all 
the superiority of the white men did not lie in their tools and 
arms. An Indian had, by some means, gotten hold of a bag of 
gunpowder and the back-piece of a suit of armor. He had seen 
the soldiers at Jamestown dry powder over the fire in such a 
receptacle, and proceeded to display his knowledge to his admir- 
ing countrymen by imitating the process. Unfortunately for 
himself, he continued it too long; the powder exploded, killing 
him and one or two of those peeping curiously over his shoulder, 
and wounding several others. This, together with their past ex- 
perience in facing the fire of guns, made them doubly desirous 
of peace, and stolen articles were restored and thieves given up 
to punishm.ent. 

The English thus lived in peace for some time, and prospered 
as never before. Twenty new houses were built, the church was 
repaired, a block-house built on the isthmus of Jamestown and on 
a neighboring island, and thirty or forty acres of ground put under 
cultivation. In the midst of their labors, they found that of their 
stock of corn, fully one-half had rotted, and the remainder had 
been almost consumed by the rats, which had been left by the 
ship, and had increased very fast; so that they were obliged to 
leave everything else and devote their energies to getting food. 
The Indians brought in plenty of venison and wild-fowl, and 
there were many oysters and fish in the river, so that there was 
no danger of starvation ; Powhatan, too, had spared them half of 
his whole stock of corn. It was some trouble to obtain the food, 
and many of the colonists were intolerably lazy. These would 
have sold tools and arms, even their houses and cannon, sooner 
than dredge for oysters. A plot to leave the country, and simi- 
lar mutinous proceedings, were for a time overlooked j but Smith 
detected and severely punished the ringleader, and sharply re- 
primanded the others. He told them that they must work not 
only for themselves, but for the sick ; and threatened that who- 
ever was lax in his work should be banished until he should 



102 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 

either alter his conduct or starve. Of course some declared this 
course cruel and tyrannical, but none dared to disobey. Some 
were billeted upon the Indians, where they were so well treated 
that others invited themselves to do the same ; but the Indians, 
fearful of displeasing Captain Smith, sent them back. 

A vessel commanded by Captain Argall arrived in the spring 
of 1609, with letters from the council in England. The course 
of the president Avas severely blamed by these gentlemen, who 
had expected the colony to make them suddenly and enormousl}' 
rich. This desired end was to be obtained by the discovery of a 
short and easy passage to the South Sea, or by working the vast 
mines which they were corvinced must be under Yirginian soil, 
since Peru and Mexico had so rewarded the Spaniards. The 
failure of the colonists was probably due to Smith's harsh, treat- 
ment of the Indians, which had prevented them from giving the 
information they must jiossess. Smith, in all his communica- 
tions addressed to the coimcil, had endeavored to dispel the 
illusions under which they labored ; he had tried to make them 
believe his story of the difficulties with which he -must contend, 
and that they could not soon expect to derive any income from 
Virginia. His efforts were futile, however, as shown by these 
letters. 

A new charter was granted, and in May, 1609, a fleet of nine 
vessels, with five hundred men, women and children, set sail for 
Virginia. Of the noblemen and gentlemen who held high posi- 
tions in the new government, the vice-admiral, Captain JSTewj^ort, 
was the onlj'- one who had ever been in Virginia. Two of the 
vessels were wrecked on the passage, but the other seven arrived 
safely. But the three men to whom authority was given to 
suj^plant the existing government at JamestoAvn, of whom New- 
port was one, had been lost at sea ; and while there was no one 
whom they would recognize as their governor, they would not 
submit themselves to Smith, against whom they were prejudiced 
by three mutineers, Sicklemore, Archer and Martin, whom he 
formerly had banished. The whole community was in such confu- 
sion that the more sensible and judicious men entreated Smith to 
enforce his authority, and save them from destruction. His 
easiest course* would have been to return to England, but he was 
too unselfishly devoted to the best interests of the colony to do 
that, and he resolutely maintained his axithority over the unruly 
flock. It was thought best to divide their numbers, and two 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 



103 



other settlements were made, each being provided witli food 
from the general store. These, however, were unfortunate, and 
the men placed there soon returned to Jamestown. 

Eeturning home after an attempt to procure safety from the 
Indians for one of these branch colonies, as he lay asleep in a 
boat, a bag of gunpowder near by exploded, tearing and burn- 
ing his flesh in a dreadful manner. Eatcliffe (alias Sicklemore), 
Archer and some others had again become mutinous, and the 
time for their trial was drawing near. " Conscience doth make 
cowards of us all," and afraid of the result of such trial, they 
formed a plot to murder Smith in his bed, knowing that no one 
else could hold them in 
check. At the last mo- 
ment, the conspirator 
who was to execute the 
plot felt his heart fail 
him, and he could not fire. 
They next thought that 
by gaining possession of 
the government they 
could escape punishment, 
and tried to do so. Fev- 
ered and tormented by 
his wounds, Capt. Smith 
lost patience in this con- 
tinual struggle with the ^« 
ingratitude of men whom X\ 
he would have benefited,' 'X 
and determined to go to "~-^ 
England; although his "^ii 
friends wished to avenge 
his injuries by the death of the conspirators, he would not 
plunge the colony into civil war to preserve his own dignity. 
His wounds, too, grew very dangerous, for lack of such surgical 
aid as could be obtained only in the old country; and he des- 
paired of recovering, if he remained in Virginia. In the early 
part of the autumn of 1609, then, he left Jamestown, never to re- 
turn to it again. 

Hero, for five years, the record is a blank. We know that he 
was coldly received in England; but that is nothing new; the 
company had been for a long time displeased at his conduct, both 




POCAHONTAS. 



104 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 

in treating the Indians as he did, and in so stubbornly refusing 
to find a gold mine. He j)robably retired to his estate after the 
cure of his wounds, remaining there in the quiet life which he 
had once sought in his youth. But he was not destined to end 
his days in the obscurity of an English country house. 

In 1614 an expedition of two ships was fitted out by four Lon- 
don merchants and himself, for the purposes of trade and explor- 
ation in North Yirginia, as New England was then called. The 
idea of settlement on these inhospitable shores had been aban- 
doned by the English for the present, but the fisheries and the 
fur-trade were not relinquished, vessels being sent thither annu- 
ally. The enterprise was in the highest degree successful. Seven 
months ( according to one authority six ) sufficed for the whole 
voyage ; the sailors did not suffer from sickness ; and the freights 
were profitable. While the sailors were busy with their hooks 
and lines, Smith examined the shores from the Penobscot to Cape 
Cod and prepared a map of the coast, naming the country New 
England. Yet the voyage was not free from crime. After Smith 
had sailed for England, Thomas Hunt, the commander of the 
second shij), kidnapped a large party of Indians, and setting sail 
for Spain, sold them into slavery, He was indignantly dismiss- 
ed from his office by his employers when they heard of his guilt ; 
but this could not prevent the evil consequences of the mischief 
he had done. The outrage sank deep into the hearts of the In- 
dians, and in after years they visited their vengeance upon in- 
nocent men belonging to the same race as did he who had so 
cruelly wronged them.^ 

Putting into the port of Plymouth on his return to England, 
Smith related his adventures to some friends whom he thought 
" interested in the dead patent for this unregarded country," and 
the Plymouth Company, by flattering hopes and great promises, 
induced him to serve them. The South Virginia Company, his 
old employers, had learned his value from the state of their col- 
ony after ho left it, and made him overtures which his previous 
engagement to the rival association obliged him to decline. He 
endeavored to persuade the two companies to unite their forces, 
a course which had many advantages, but the rivalry existing 
between them would not admit of this sensible plan. 

Four ships were to have been furnished him, but the poor suc- 
cess of a previous expedition, which had suffered from the Indians 
so enraged at Hunt, had cooled the enthusiasm of the company j 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 105 

and when, early in January, 1615, he reached Plymonth, it re- 
quired his utmost exertions, seconded by the influence of others, 
to obtain two ships. With one vessel of two hundred tons, and 
one of only fifty, in which there were, besides seamen, sixteen 
men destined to remain as settlers, he set sail from Plymouth 
the following March. One hundred and twenty leagues out, 
they encountered such a violent storm that Capt. Smith's vessel 
was dismasted and obliged to return to Plymouth. 

From this port he again set out late in June, in a small bark 
of sixty tons, manned by thirty sailors, and carrying the same 
sixteen settlers who had been with him before. Misfortune 
seemed to follow them, for they had not gone far before they fell 
in with an English pirate. The crew insisted upon surrendering 
without resistance, but although he had only four guns to the pi- 
rate's thirty-six, Smith would not do it. The fears of the crew 
were allayed in a strange manner, for their captain, speaking 
with the pirate, found that the commander and some of the crew 
had been old comrades of his in the Turkish campaigns, and had 
recently escaped from slavery at Tunis, stealing the ship. They 
were without provisions and had mutinied, and offered to put 
Captain Smith in command, or to carry him wherever he wanted 
to go; but both offers were declined, and the little vessel sailed 
on, only to meet with two Prench pirates near Payal. Again 
the crew would have had him surrender ; but, telling them that 
he would rather blow up the ship, he succeeded in escaping after 
a running fight. 

He had not left the neighborhood of the Azores when he was 
chased and overtaken by four French men-of-war, who had 
orders from their sovereign to seize pirates of all nations. At 
the command of the admiral, Captain Smith showed his commis- 
sion under the great seal, to prove that he was not a pirate, and 
ought, of course, to have been allowed to go on his way, as 
England and France were at peace; but the Frenchman 
detained him prisoner, plundered his vessel and*manned it with 
Frenchmen, distributing the English sailors and settlers among 
the ships of his own fleet. After a few days, ho gave the Eng- 
lishmen their vessel again, together with the greater part of 
their provisions. 

Captain Smith now made preparations for continuing the voy- 
age, although many of the crew, disheartened by their bad luck, 
wished to go back to Plymouth ; when one day, before they had 



106 CAi'TAIN JOHN SMITH. 

parted from the French fleet, the admiral sent for him to come 
aboard the flagship. He went, alone. • While he was there, the 
French ship, which was really no better than a jDirate, spread her 
sails and gave chase to a strange vessel, and was followed by her 
consorts. The English crew were now able to do as they had so 
long wished, and they turned the ship's course homeward. 
The sixteen landsmen, however, knew nothing of this until they 
sailed into the harbor of Plymouth. 

This abduction of Captain Smith was doubtless caused by the 
calumnies of his own crew, who were anxious to get rid of him, 
that they might return home. The admiral's ship, separated 
from the rest of the fleet by a storm, continued her piratical 
course alone. When an English ship was attacked. Smith was 
confined in the hold, but was obliged to fight w^ith them in any 
engagement with Spanish vessels. Having spent the summer in 
this way, they carried him to Eochelle ; where they detained him a 
prisoner on board a vessel in the harbor, although they had 
promised to give him a share in their prizes to remunerate him 
for his losses. 

In order to avoid sharing with him, they accused him of burn- 
ing Port Koyal in 1613, and endeavored to compel him to give 
them a discharge in full before the proper authority, threatening 
to imprison him if he refused. While he was considering this, an 
opportunity of escape ofl'ered itself. A violent storm arose. In 
the midst of it, while it was dark. Captain Smith threw himself 
into a small boat, and with a half pike for an oar, pushed out to 
sea. The storm was so violent that the coast was strewn with 
wrecks. Twelve hours he passed in the frail boat, expecting every 
moment to be swallowed up by the waves ; till by the returning 
tide he was thrown upon a marshy island, where, wet, half-frozen, 
tired and hungry, he was found by some fowlers and taken back 
to Eochelle. Landing here, he lodged a complaint against the 
admiral who had kept him prisoner, and whose ship had been 
wrecked in the late storm. This action seems to have led to no 
result but the granting of a certificate of the truth of his state- 
ment, his story having been confirmed by some sailors that es- 
caped from the wreck of the French vessel. But he found kind 
friends who assisted him in getting passage to England. 

Having published a description of New England, written dur- 
ing his captivity, and a map of the same section made during his 
first voyage thither, he sj)ent many months of the succeeding 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 



10? 



year (1616) in traveling about England, distributing copies of his 
book, and endeavoring to excite the enthusiasm of the people. 
He appealed to the desires and passions of men, promising vast 
dominions to the noblemen, mercantile profits to the speculators, 
and a competence to men of small means. But the failure of many 
late expeditions had put people on their guard about the 'New 
World, and his only reward was the title of "Admiral of New 
England," conferred upon him by the Plymouth Company. 
It was in the summer of this same year that Pocahontas, now 




POCAHONTAS PKESENTED AT COURT. 

the wife of John Eolfe, visited England, and was received with 
great ceremony and presented at court. The Indians had been 
told that Smith was dead, but Powhatan, knowing that his " coun- 
trymen will lie much," commanded them to find out the truth. 
She desired to be allowed to call Smith " father," as she had been 
accustomed to do in Virginia, but he " durst not, because she was 
a king's daughter." 

When Smith had had his interview with Pocahontas, he had 
been, according to his own words, on the eve of sailing to New 
England ; but for some reason, did not go. Later, he made an- 



108 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 



other effort to go to the new country for which he had done so 
much. 

In March, 1622, the Indians, no longer restrained by the in- 
fluence of Pocahontas, attacked the settlement at Jamestown, and 
massacred three hundred and forty-seven Englishmen. The news 
created great excitement in the mother country, and Capt. Smith, 
deeply affected by this misfortune of the colony in which he took 
so keen an interest, was very anxious to be allowed to go to Vir- 




BESTRUCTION OF A VIRGINIA SETTLEMENT. 

ginia in person, to avenge the outrage. The company professed 
itself too much impoverished, however, to bear the expense of 
such an expedition ; and their plan, which was to remunerate him 
and his soldiers out of the pillage, was rejected by him with the 
contemptuous statement that he would not give twenty pounds 
for all the pillage that could be obtained from the savages in 
twenty years. 

With this, he retires from the history of the colonies, if we ex^ 
cept his answers to commissioners appointed shortly before the 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 109 

charter of Virginia was abrogated, to inquire into the abuses of 
authority by the company. His death occurred in London, in 
1631, in the tifty-second year of his age. We could relate little 
of his early history that is not to be doubted ; performing his 
work at Jamestown, when his connection with the American col- 
onies ceased he sank into obscurity again, until death. 



CHAPTER IV. 



CAPTAIN" MILES STANDISH. 

"He was a gentleman "bom, could' trace Lis pedigi-ee plainly, 
Back to Hugh Standish, of Duxbury Hall, in Lancashire, England, 
* * * * * 

Heir unto vast estates of which he was basely defrauded." 

SUCH are the words which Longfellow ascribes to John 
Alden, the friend of Miles Standish; not poetic license to 
grace the picture of a fictitious hero, but the truth about a real 
man. The captain of Plymouth was indeed of good descent, as 
English records attest ; and more than once his descendants in 
America have made efforts to regain possession of the "vast es- 
tates." But he left ancestral honors behind him when he sailed 
away from England ; it is chiefly with the name which he made 
for himself in this country that we are concerned. 

He was born at the family seat, Duxbury Hall, in Lancashire, 
in the year 1584. Educated as a soldier, he was commissioned 
a lieutenant at an early age, as he held this rank in "Queen Eliza- 
beth's forces," and was but nineteen when her death left the 
kingdom to James I. For some time he was in a regiment which 
garrisoned a town in the Netherlands, where the struggle for 
independence of Spain was going on j but peace having been de- 
clared, England withdrew the troops which she had sent to aid 
the patriots. Standish, however, did not return with his regi- 
ment, but remained in Leyden with a little colony of his country- 
men who had fled from religious persecution in their native land. 

Theirs was a pitiful story. Regarding the practices of the Es- 
tablished Church as leading back to error, they had striven to 
use the same simplicity in their j)ubliG worship for which, later, 
the Weslcys strove j but the bigotry of the queen gave no latitude; 
all must conform to the established ritual. Determining to leave 
the rural homes which they loved so dearly, to seek religious liber- 
ty in a country where the very language would be strange; where, 
simple husbandmen as they were, they must make their living 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. Ill 

in the intricacies of trade; they were betrayed by the commander 
of the vessel in which they were to sail, and taken back to stripes 
and imprisonment. A second effort was hardly more successful, for 
as they were embarking, the Dutch captain was so much alarmed 
by the approach of a body of soldiery, that he sailed off, bearing 
half of the oppressed people with him, while "halfwept upon the 
shore." Those left behind were exposed to the most cruel treat- 
ment from the soldiery ; hurried from one magistrate to another, 
no one could find a fitting punishment for innocence, and at last 
they were released. This did not mean happiness, however. Of 
their sufferings, penniless, friendless, homeless, we have no writ- 
ten record; some doubtless perished of exposure, some found 
charitable friends who enabled them to reach Amsterdam. Hith- 
er had come fugitive Protestants from all parts of Europe, and it 
was a place renowned for liberality of ideas. Whether the farm- 
ers from England found it impossible to make a living in this busy 
commercial city, or whether it was from some other cause, they 
soon removed to Leyden. 

But they were not content to remain " strangers in a strange 
land," where the very language was unfamiliar to their ears ; 
and they determined, before very many years had elapsed, to 
settle in "Virginia," if they could obtain permission to do so. It 
will be remembered that this name, now restricted to two states, 
was then applied to all American territory which had been under 
the dominion, nominally, of the Virgin Queen, Elizabeth. The 
only permission which they could obtain was that King James I 
would " connive at them, and not molest them, providing they 
carried themselves peaceably." 

When Captain Standish first cast in his lot with the Pilgrims 
is not definitely known. The independence of the Dutch Eepub- 
lic had been virtually acknowledged in 1609, and the English 
troops must have been withdrawn soon afterwards ; so that it 
could not have been very long after this time that he became in- 
terested in the little community. 'Nor do we know why he at- 
tached himself to them; certainly it could not have been for re- 
ligious reasons, or he would have become a member of the church ; 
it may have been the love of adventure, or perhaps the instinct 
of a chivalrous nature to succor the distressed. Certain it is 
that his bravery and sagacity in dealing with the Indians contri- 
buted greatly to the success of their undertaking. 

The story of their setting sail from Delft, being driven back to 



112 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 

Plymouth by the unseaworthiness of one of their two vessels, and 
setting out again with the one remaining to them, is too well 
known to require repetition here. He did not assume importance 
in the affairs which he knew others could manage better than he 
could, and was content to wait for his active service until they 
should have arrived in the country which Capt. John Smith had 
already named New England. Let us, then, leave to historians 
of the Pilgrim Fathers the account of the Mayflower's final de- 
parture on the sixth of September, 1820, and the tedious voyage 
of sixty -four days. Nor will we describe their efforts to reach 
the mouth of the Hudson, where they had desired to land. 

So much were they tossed about by storms that it was with a 
feeling of relief that they cast anchor in a safe harbor at the ex- 
tremity of Cape Cod, on the morning of the eleventh of Novem- 
ber. Just before entering this harbor, they had drawn up the 
brief compact which bound them to each other, and had chosen 
John Carver as governor and Miles Standish as military leader. 
Under the latter, a party of sixteen men was sent on shore to 
make a short exploring tour, to return, of course, that night, 
since the next day was Sunday. Their report was little calcu- 
lated to reassure those who had remained; a tongue of barren 
land, about a mile in breadth, uninhabited, although covered with 
a dense forest of evergreens and dwarf oaks, without fresh wa- 
ter — such was their first knowledge of America. 

The Mayflower had only been chartered for the voyage, and 
their authority over the vessel was hence more limited than if 
she had been their own property. This led to some disadvanta^ 
ges to which less determined men might have succumbed ; but 
when the captain refused to leave the safe harbor in which he 
was lying, and j^eril his vessel by coasting about in these unknown 
seas, the sturdy colonists went to work to prepare for service a 
large shallop which they had brought with them. This had been 
but partially put together in England, and the work of finishing 
it, and of re2:)airing the injuries it had received during the voy- 
age, consumed sixteen or seventeen days. But the imjiatient 
temper of Captain Standish could not endure this continued in- 
action, and on the following Wednesday he set out, with a party 
of fifteen men, upon a more extended tour than the first had 
been. The danger of this journey was so well known that it 
"was rather permitted than approved," by the elder men who 
remained at work in the ship. Besides these sixteen soldiers, 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 113 

who had each his musket, sword and corselet, "William Bradford, 
Stephen Hopkins and Edward Tilley went with them " for coun- 
sel and advice." 

Following the coast for about a mile, they saw six or seven 
Indians approaching them, accompanied by a dog. The very 
sight of the white men awakened such terror in the minds of the 
savages that they turned and fled into the woods. The English- 
men pursued, hoping to be able to make friends with them ; but 
their motives were not appreciated by the natives, who had suf- 
fered, perhaps, at the hands of other white men. Night came 
on while they were still engaged in the bootless chase, and they 
encamped at a point about ten miles from the vessel, continuing 
the pursuit the next day. But this Thursday was filled with dis- 
coveries. A spring of fresh water, the first that they had seen, was 
found bubbling uj) from the earth in a deep valley j farther on 
was a small fresh water lake. They found several mounds of 
curious appearance, and dug into them ; but coming upon decay- 
ing bows and arrows and similar articles, they reverently re- 
placed the earth that formed the only monument to some depart- 
ed chief. A mound unlike these was discovered later, and found 
to be a store-house. Here they saw, for the first time, that 
" blessing more precious than gold," Indian corn ; the sign of that 
fertility in which the true wealth of the New World consists. 
They were not disposed to rob the natives whose foresight had 
placed th.'s food here, but their stock of provisions was running 
low, and they took the corn, resolving to repay the owners when- 
ever they should be found. 

They had been directed not to remain away more than two* 
days, so that they must now bend their steps toward the ship. 
Losing their way in the woods, their low spirits yielded to 
laughter when Mr. Bradford was unceremoniously swung up into 
the air while examining an ingeniously contrived deer-trap.^ 
Friday afternoon, with clothes torn by the branches in the thick 
woods, and feet blistered by the long tramp, they reached the 
ship again, having found no place suitable for the location of 
the colony. 

A third and longer expedition was made, this time partly by 
water, as the shallop was now prepared, but with no better suc- 
cess than the others. Only one man, the second mate of the 
Mayflower, had been in the country before, and he described to 
them the location of a large navigable river with a good harbor, 



114 CAPTAIN MILES 8TANDISH. 

about twenty-five miles due west of Cape Cod„ To this point, 
then, they resolved to go. It was necessary for them to find 
very soon a place of settlement, as the captain of the vessel grew 
very impatient and threatened to set sail for England, leaving 
them where they were. Ten picked men, among whom the best 
known were Gov. Carver, Mr. Bradford and Captain Standish, 
set out in the shallop in the afternoon of the sixth of December, 
well-armed and provisioned, and determined to find a suitable 
location if any such existed. Pushing on, although the waves were 
unusually high, and the spray, freezing as it dashed over them, 
covered them with an icy armor, they entered late in the even- 
ing a small, shallow cave. Twelve Indians, who were on the 
beach, fled at their approach. 

It was deemed necessary to keep guard over their camp at 
night, as the temper of the Indians had not been tried. The sec- 
ond night this sentinel called '' Arm ! arm ! " but the " hideous 
and great cry" they heard ceased at the sound of a couple of 
musket shots, and they concluded that it was a company of 
wolves. The next morning, after prayers, but before breakfast, 
they heard voices like those of the night, and a shower of ar- 
rows fell in the camp. Captain Standish was the first to seize 
his flint-lock and fire, and his shot was quickly followed by a 
second. Others were ready, but he gave orders not to shoot at 
random, but to wait until aim could be taken. The yells of the 
Indians indicated that they had a large force, and the whites 
feared that they might, by a sudden sally, possess themselves of 
the shallop and cut off" all chances of retreat. Captain Standish, 
to prevent this, divided his force, five being appointed to defend 
their barricaded camp, where were their arms and provisions, 
and five to protect the vessel. 

The thick winter clothes and the mail of the Englishmen form- 
ed a sufficient protection against the arrows, though they were 
thrown with great force, and being tipped with flint and bone, 
and sometimes with brass from a fishing-vessel, could inflict very 
bad wounds. Their flight, however, could be seen, as they did 
not come with the rapidity of bullets, and the whites could often 
dodge what might otherwise have been deadly missiles. One In- 
dian of remarkable stature, apparently the leader of the whole 
band, was noticed for the accuracy of his aim and the rapidity 
with which he shot. Sheltered by a large tree, his voice could 
be heard above the din of the conflict, animating his followers to 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 115 

still greater displays of daring and exertion. The bark of the 
tree was splintered by musket shots, but for a long time he was 
unhurt. Captain Standish was but watching his chance, however, 
and when the burly savage exposed his arm in the attempt to 
despatch another shaft, he sent a bullet home. The Indian, 
apparently bewildered by the effect of the unseen agency which 
had mangled his arm, stood still for an instant; then, uttering a 
dismal cry, disappeared in the forest, followed by his compan- 
ions. Hardly had the echoes of the last shot died away before 
the Indians were gone, and the silence of the woods and the 
murmur of the sea succeeded the wild clamor of an Indian fight. 
Returning to their camp, the Pilgrims gave thanks to God for 
their deliverance, and gathering up their arms and provisions, 
prepared to return. 

If they had reached this point by a stormy way, still greater 
was the danger which beset them as they returned. The rain 
which had been falling had changed to sleet ; the waves dashed 
into their boat, drenching them completely and covering 
their clothing and the ropes with ice. Hour after hour they 
sought for some place where they could safely make the attempt 
to land, but could find none. Their rudder was swept away ; 
their mast was broken into three pieces, their sail being dashed 
into the sea ; twilight was darkening into night when the pilot 
exclaimed, with a gesture and tone of despair: 

" The Lord have mercy upon us ! I was never in this place be- 
fore. All that we can do is to run the boat ashore through the 
breakers." 

Dazed by the words of the man in whose skill they had trusted, 
who had cheered them by telling, from time to time, of safe har- 
bors near at hand, they were about to obey his insane counsel 
and rush to certain death, when, above the roar of the wind, the 
surging of the waves and the pitiless hissing of the sleet, there 
rang out, clear and sharp as the crack of a musket, the tones of 
their captain : 

" If ye be men, seize your oars, or we are all cast away!" 

Plying the oars vigorously, as if incited to new efforts by this 
appeal to their manhood, they succeeded in reaching a compara- 
tively quiet inlet, dimly discerned from the boat through the 
spray and the mist and the gathering darkness. Having learned 
from experience that the woods might be full of savages, they 
at first decided to pass the night in the boat ; but their sufferings 



116 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 



becoming unendurable, they thought more lightly of the danger 
of attack, and kindled a fire on shore. Here they were in less 
danger than they had thought, for when morning dawned, bitter- 
ly cold, but bright and sunshiny, they found they were on a small 
island. Here, then, they remained all the next day, drying 
their clothes, resting, and otherwise prej^aring for the observance 
of the Sabbath to-morrow. Time was precious, the season was 
advancing ; their companions were in suspense as to their fate ; 
but the Sabbath was observed asconscientiously as if in England. 
Early Monday morning they continued their voyage, search- 
ing for the navig- 
able river which 
had been described 
to them, but which 
they failed to find. 
Landing, they dis- 
covered one or two 
small streams of 
pure water, and 
saw several fields 
which the Indians 
had evidently cul- 
tivated in the j^ast, 
but for some cause 
ibandoned. Al- 
though it was not 
the Land of Prom- 
ise which they had 
expected when 
they sailed from 
England, it was far 
superior to anj^- 
thing yet found ; 
and they pushed 
across the bay to 
acquaint their com- 
panions with the 
results. 

It is not necessary to tell again what poet and historian alike 
have delighted to record — the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, 
Deeamber 22. 1620. on the only rock large enough for the pur- 




LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS. 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 117 

pose to be found on the sandy coast. JSTor need we detail the 
labor of erecting the log houses which were to be their shelter 
from the cold and stormy weather which so much impeded their 
work. They had landed on Friday, and Saturday was spent in 
hewing trees and dragging them into the clearing chosen for the 
little village. Beasts of burden they had none, and the lack 
of such assistance made their progress very slow. Assembling 
in their partially finished store-house the next day, for the usual 
Sabbath devotions, they were startled by the demoniac yells 
which some of them had heard in their first encounter with the 
natives. The foresight of the captain had provided for such a 
contingency, and when he gave the word of command every 
man, musket in hand, was at his post. Sheltered by the log 
walls of the building, they could have repelled almost any num- 
of Indians, but the wary savages did not wait to prove this. 
They had already learned the cfficac}'' of the muskets, and when 
they saw the settlers were armed and ready for an attack, 
they retreated rapidly into the woods without having showed 
themselves. 

The next day was Christmas. In the evening they heard the 
war-whoops of the same savages, who again retreated without 
further molesting them. Their work of building was continued 
through the week — hard labor for men, one-half of whom were 
already wasting away with consumption and lung-fevers, con- 
tracted in their exposure to the extraordinarily cold winter. 
Notwithstanding the pressing need of shelter, the necessity for 
means of defense was still greater, and all hands set to work to 
complete the fort crowning Burial Hill, and commanding all the 
approaches to the chosen site of the village. 

On the fourth of January, Captain Standish, taking with him 
four well-armed men, plunged boldly into the forest, hoping to be 
able to establish friendly relations with the Indians. For more 
than a week the settlers had watched with alarm the columns of 
smoke rising in the morning sky, and the gleam of the camp-fires 
illuming the darkness of the night. So rapidly had the number 
of these fires increased that they had judged the natives were 
gathering around them in great force, prej^aratory to an attack 
which should be fatal to the colony. Captain Standish wished 
to find the Indians at their rendezvous, but it was probable that 
they had their scouts so stationed as to give them due warning 
of the approach of the white men, and although he came upon 



118 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 

their deserted wigwams and even the glowing embers of their 
camp-fires, he failed to find the objects of his search. 

We will not dwell longer on the difficulties with which they 
had already contended. Another trouble, greater than any be- 
fore, was to come upon the colony, was to come to the home of 
the captain. Exposure, privation and anxiety had done their 
work, and many of the colonists died during the winter. The 
first grave made was that of Eose, the wife of Miles Standish — a 
sweet English flower, too delicate to withstand the severity of a 
Massachusetts winter. Of his wooing we have learned nothing, 
of his grief no record remains; the first intimation that we have 
of his marriage is the statement of his wife's death, and we can 
only guess that the poet has rightly interpreted his character in 
attributing to him the sentiment : 

" Since Eose Staudish died, my life lias teen weary and dreary." 

Hers was the first of many graves. Before the winter had 
wholly passed away, it could have been truthfully said that the 
record of misery was kept by the graves of the governor and 
half the company. Nor could affection perform its last offices, in 
beautifying the resting-places of the beloved clay; lest the In- 
dians, seeing how many graves there were, should judge truly 
of the weakness of the colony, the burials were secret, and every 
effort made to do away with all traces of digging up the earth. 

It is but a confirmation of the respect in "which we would hold 
the brave man, when we find that courage does not make him 
brutal ; as, indeed, true courage never does. All through this 
terrible winter, when the living could scarcely bury the dead, 
when the well could scarcely tend the sick, when there were but 
six or seven men fit to bear arms, and they might at any moment 
be attacked by a thousand Indians, side by side with the man of 
God was the man of war, transformed for the time being into an 
angel of mercy ; tending the suff'erers with a hand as gentle as a 
woman's, performing all the homely and necessary services which 
the sick require. Yet in the midst of the hewing of wood and 
drawing of water, the defense of the settlers was not neglected. 

On the nineteenth of February, Captain Standish was invested 
with almost absolute powers as a military commander by the 
frightened and weakened colonists ; and even while they were in 
consultation, the danger became more imminent. Two Indians 
made their appearance upon a small eminence about a quarter of a 
mile off", and signaled that they wished to speak to the white 



CAI»TAIN miles STANDISli. 



119 



men. Although it was so clearly a decoy to an ambuscade, Captain 
Standish, wholly unarmed, accompanied by Mr. Stephen Hopkins, 
who carried his gun, advanced to meet them. Eeaching the hill, 
Mr. Hopkins laid down his musket, and in this entirely defence- 
less condition the two brave men went on. This strange conduct 
is easily enough explained when we remember that the Puritans 
were anxious to make friends with the Indians. The latter had 
always been the attacking party, and the whites had acted only 
in self-defense. As the two men went on, the Indians who had 




FIRST CHURCH IN NEW ENGLAND. 

signaled them, turned and fled precipitately into the forest, 
and when the top of the hill was reached, not a savage was in 
sight, although they could hear the noise of a great many retreat- 
ing. They were much perplexed to know what was meant by 
such conduct, but lost no time in returning to the fort. 

Perceiving that they could not hope for peace from the Indians, 
Captain Standish mounted three small guns upon the platform 
of the rude fort, and assigned to every man his post in time of 
attack. It was now the middle of March; the severity of the 
winter was a thing of the past, and although the fighting force 



120 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 

was not yet increased, the invalids were beginning to recover. 
Captain Standish had assembled all wbo were capable of bearing 
arms to complete their military preparations, when, to their sur- 
prise, a single Indian stalked boldly up to them, unembarrassed, 
unhesitatingly. We may imagine how each man's heart, brave 
though it might be, throbbed at the thought that perhaps the 
hour had come for the destruction of the colony. Despite their 
many endeavors to prepare for an attack, the paucity of their 
numbers would not tend to reassure the bravest. But the first 
words of the Indian gave them hope ; advancing into their 
midst, he said, in broken English : " Welcome, Englishmen." 

They found that he was a chief of his tribe, living on the island 
of Monhegan, between the Kennebec and Penobscot rivers, about 
twelve miles from shore. This island was often visited by fisher- 
men, from whom he had learned to speak a little broken Eng- 
lish, and he had come to the settlement because he supposed the 
Mayflower to be a fishing-vessel. He explained the hostility of 
the tribes around them by saying that since Captain Hunt had 
kidnapped so many of the Indians and sold them into slavery, 
those who remained were determined to avenge the injuries of 
their kindred, and did not distinguish between innocent and 
guilty white men. 

From this visitor, whose name was Samoset, they also learned 
that a short time after the Hunt outrage, a French ship had been 
wrecked off Cape Cod, and the savages had massacred all on 
board except three or four whom they reserved as prisoners. 
One of these had threatened them with the punishment of an 
angry God, and although they at first disbelieved him, a terrible 
plague, that broke out among them soon afterward, seemed to 
confirm his prediction ; and they looked in dread at the coming 
of the Englishmen, since he had also prophesied that their land 
would be given to another people. What wonder that, outraged 
by the white man, and fearing that they would be finally dispos- 
sessed by him of their homes, they should have done their utmost 
to drive him from their country? 

His account of the plague explained the desertion of cornfields 
and wigwams, and greatly reassured the Pilgrims by informing 
them of the comparatively small numbers of the natives. The 
white men listened earnestly to him during the whole afternoon, 
and the vanity of the savage Avas so gratified by their interest 
and attention that he had no notion of leaving them at night. 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 



121 



Cajjtain Standish by this time was quite anxious to get rid of his 
guest, whom he by no means trusted entirely; but he would not 
go. He was therefore lodged with Mr. Hopkins for the night, 
and carefully watched. 

Before his departure in the morning, Samoset was presented 
with a knife, a bracelet and a ring. He left, promising to return 
in a few days with some people of Massasoit, the great sachem to 
whom all the neighboring tribes were tributary. 




(^AMO.SET S VISIT. 



The next day was the Sabbath. As the pioneers were assem- 
bling for worship, Samoset again entered the village, this time 
with five tall Indians at his heels, carrying furs to sell to the 
colonists. Captain Standish had already stipulated with Samo- 
set that whatever Indians came into the town should leave their 
bows and arrows at a certain place, about a quarter of a mile 
distant; and this arrangement was faithfully observed. Samo- 
set, to further prove his friendly intentions, had also brought 
back some of the tools which had been stolen some time before. 
The English received these guests with every token of friendly 
welcome, but positively refused to trade with them on the Sab- 
bath 'j each Indian was enriched by a trifling j^resent, and all 
retired but Samoset, who, pretending sickness, remained until 
"Wednesday. 



122 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 

The cottages were now so far finished as to afford protection 
from the weather, and the Monday and Tuesday of this week 
was spent in gardening. Samoset, who on Wednesday was sent 
into the forest to see why the Indians did not return, according 
to agreement, had just disappeared in the woods, when two sav- 
ages were seen upon the hill before mentioned, assuming many 
hostile attitudes. Captain Standish with one companion advanced 
toward them, but they turned and fled. The Pilgrims had 
learned from Samoset that his countrymen relied much upon 
magic and incantation, and rightly supposed that these Indians 
were endeavoring to put them under a spell. 

It was not until noon of the following day that Samoset 
returned, accompanied by three other Indians. One of these 
was Squantum, who had been kidnapped by Captain Hunt, but 
purchf.sed and sent back to America by an Englishman, a cer- 
tain Mr. John Slaney. With a generosity rare in the red man, 
he had forgotten the injuries and remembered the benefits 
received j for the sake of his liberator, he was ready to befriend 
all Englishmen. These visitors brought the startling news that 
their great sachem, Massasoit, with a train of sixty warriors, 
was on his way to visit them. Such guests in such numbers 
were by no means desirable, nor did Massasoit wish to trust him- 
self too far to Captain Hunt's countrymen. Several messages 
passed between these mutually distrustful parties, and at last, 
on Massasoit's proposal that the colonists should send one of 
their number to explain their reasons for settling upon the lands 
of his vassal, Mr. Edward Winslow volunteered to go, accom- 
panied by Squantum, who had been acting as interpreter. The 
sachem gave pleased attention to this gentleman's conciliatory 
speech, as it was translated to him, and graciously received the 
presents that had been brought to him. Mr. Winslow's long and 
shining sword took his eye, but the owner refused to sell it. 

Leaving this embassador as a hostage in his camp, Massasoit, 
with a retinue of twenty unarmed men, went towards the village, 
sending six into the town as surety for his good faith. Captain 
Standish advanced to meet him, followed by six of his men. The 
Indians did not guess how large a part of the white men's force 
this guard of honor constituted. Massasoit and his attendants 
were conducted into the presence of Gov. Carver; the pipe of peace 
was smoked ; and they entered into a treaty ; one article being 
that neither party should go armed to visit the other. 



124 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 

Massasoit and his attendants withdrew at night, and on the next 
day were visited in their own camp by Captain Standish and a com- 
panion. The treaty thus made and cemented by friendly inter- 
course greatly encouraged the Pilgrims, whom a hostile recep- 
tion had prepared for continual contests. This peace was neces- 
sary in the extreme, as the last tie that bound them to their old 
home had been broken by the return of the Mayflower to England 
shortly after Massasoit's visit; remain in the wilderness they 
must, since there was no way to cross the ocean : even though, 
as the ship faded from sight, a new trouble came upon them in 
the death of their governor. 

Unmolested by the Indians, and with no hope of returning to 
England, they devoted themselves to the work of spring time ; 
spading up the earth, since thev had no horses or oxen for the 
plow ; planting peas and barley, also corn according to the in- 
structions of Squantum. In the woods was an abundant supply 
of berries, in the streams were fish, and eels in such quantities 
that their Indian companion could tread out with his feet and 
catch in his hands, during the day, as many as he could carry 
home at night. But while the men, hoe or spade in hand, work- 
ed around the little group of log houses, with constant visits from 
Indians, women and children clamoring for food and devouring 
with wolfish voracity, there frowned above them from the rude 
fort on the hill, the three cannon that were for their defense 
when these very Indians should prove treacherous. 

A visit to Massasoit by two of the Englishmen revealed to them 
at once the strength and the weakness of Indian tribes ; they 
also learned that he was at war with the Narragansetts, a power- 
ful tribe living to the south of his territories. Nor were all of 
the friendly sagamore's tributaries as peacefully disposed as him- 
self. Corbitant, a chief of one of the minor tribes, having re- 
ceived the news of Massasoit's defeat by the Narragansetts, with 
whom he was about to ally himself, endeavored to excite a revolt 
against t^ie sagamore, and resolved to make war upon the settlers 
at Plymouth. Squantum, accompanied by Hobbomak, a chief 
who had strongly allied himself to the whites, set out froin the 
village to visit Massasoit, with inquiries and encouragement for 
him from the Englishmen. Corbitant captured them, and, brand- 
ishing a knife, approached Squantum with the words : 

" When Squantum is dead, the Englishmen will have lost their 
tongue." 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 125 

Intent upon the destruction of the interpreter, the captors paid 
little attention to Hobbomak, who, being a very powerful man, 
broke away while their leader was threatening his companion. 
Breathless and terrified, he reached Plymouth the next day, una- 
ble to tell if Squantum were dead or alive. 

" If we allow the hostile Indians to thus assail our allies," ex- 
claimed the Pilgrims, " none of the natives, however kindly dis- 
posed, will dare to befriend us. We must show them that we will 
protect our friends." 

Accordingly, on the fourteenth of August, Captain Standish set 
out to avenge the murder of the faithful Squantum. By the nar- 
row paths that generations of Indians had trodden as they went 
on hunting or war parties, they journeyed through the forest 
where every branch showered afresh upon them the rain that 
fell in torrents. Pour miles from Namasket, where Corbitant 
had taken his prisoners, they halted, late in the afternoon. JSTight 
came on, dark with clouds and driving rain, and they again went 
on their way. In the darkness they missed the trail, and it was 
only after groping a long time through the tangled thickets that 
they again found it. But the storm, which had hitherto been 
their greatest drawback, now befriended them ; the wailings of 
the wind, the patter of the rain-drops, hid from the keen ears of 
their enemies their approach. Before them, at last, glimmered 
the camp-fire, and creeping closer, they saw that the Indians were 
sleeping. The slumbering savages were rudely awakened by a 
report from two of their muskets, fired for that purpose, and Ga-p- 
tain Standish with two or three others, rushed into the hut where 
Corbitant and several of his warriors were supposed to be sleep- 
ing. 

" Stay in the wigwam," shouted Hobbomak, interpreting the 
leader's words ; " stay in the wigwam ; the English have come 
only for Corbitant, the murderer of Squantum; if he is not here, 
they will hurt no one." 

But the report of the muskets had half-crazed the savages with 
fear, and in their wild endeavors to escape many were severely 
wounded. The scene may be imagined better then described, lit 
up by the flames of the fire, newly kindled, that the steel-clad 
soldiers might search the better among the half-naked, painted 
savages for the offending chief. But there was no need for venge- 
ance ; Hobbomak, climbing to the top of the wigwam, called 
aloud for Squantum, who answered in person. Much rejoiced 



126 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 

that their faithful friend was still alive, the white men disarmed 
the Indians, and setting a guard, slept quietly until morning. 

The Indians of Corbitant's party had, during the night, fled to 
their chief, so that, in the morning, only the friendly natives re- 
mained. As they gathered around Captain Standish with assur- 
ances of good will, he told them that Corbitant would not escape 
so easily the next time ; that if the I^arragansetts continued hos- 
tile, they would be punished by the total overthrow of their tribe ; 
that he regretted that any one had been wounded, but that it was 
in consequence of disobeying his orders. Two of these accepted 
his invitation to come to Plymouth to be tended by the surgeon, 
and accompanied by many others, the little party returned, reach- 
ing the settlement that same evening. 

The consequences of this expedition were of great importance. 
Many sachems expressed their desire to ally themselves with 
the settlers ; Corbitant himself made peace with them through 
the good offices of Massasoit ; and even the Narragansetts made 
friendly overtures. 

But while a due sense of their power was thus impressed upon 
the south, the settlers were threatened with danger from the 
tribe about forty miles to the north. They decided to send an 
expedition to that region, to establish friendly relations with 
the natives and to examine the country. In the latter part of 
vSeptcmber, Captain Standish, with nine soldiers and Squantum 
and two other Indians as interpreters, set sail at midnight for 
their destination. Sailing a distance, supposed to be about sixty 
miles from Plymouth, they passed the first night in the boat, in 
a sheltered bay, supposed to have been Boston harbor. 

Landing the next morning, three men were left to guard the 
shallop, two stationed as sentinels at a short distance, and the 
others were led by their brave captain into the forest. On land- 
ing, they had found a number of lobsters lying upon the beach, 
and made use of them. Meeting with a woman who was going 
to the shore to get them, they paid her for the food, and obtained 
information as to the residence of the chief, Obbatinewat. As 
this was a little farther along the coast, the party returned to 
the shallop, arriving at the village after a short sail. Here they 
met with a cordial welcome, and were enabled to act as peace- 
makers between this tribe and that governed by the squaw 
sachem, the widow of the late chief. Squantum, with true Indian 
spirit, counselled Captain Standish to take by force all the skins 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 127 

in possession of this latter tribe, because they were bad people 
and had often threatened the settlements. 

"Were they never so bad/' answered the Puritan captain 
gravely, " we would not wrong them,' or give them just reason 
to complain of us. For we little weighed their words that threat- 
ened us, and if they once attempted to act against us, we would 
deal far worse with them than you desire," 

After trading for the furs which Squantum wished them to 
seize, they returned, having been absent four days. Peaceful rela- 
tions were now established with all the surrounding Indians, a 
bountiful harvest of corn was gathered, the fur-trade with the 
natives was profitable, fishing was rewarded with abundance, 
the forests were filled with deer and wild turkeys, and the streams 
abounded with water-fowl. Their houses were made tighter and 
more comfortable, ample supplies of fuel gathered, and every- 
thing thus prepared for the advent of winter. The arrival of a 
vessel with thirty-five colonists who had left England with bare- 
ly enough provisions for the voyage, put an end to their rejoic- 
ings, and obliged them to put the whole colony upon half-rations. 

The colony now had about fifty men capable of bearing arms, 
although but a small supply of ammunition. Eumors reached 
them, in midwinter, that the Narragansetts were assuming a hos- 
tile attitude. As this tribe numbered about thirty thousand, five 
thousand of whom were warriors, the threatening character of 
this intelligence will be readily seen. While they were still 
alarmed about the rumor, a strange Indian one day entered the 
town and asked for Squantum. The answer that he was not there 
seemed to relieve him of some fear, and he was about to depart, 
after having left for him a bundle of arrows tied with a rattle- 
snake's skin, when Captain Standish, at the governor's request, 
detained him. He was evidently a Narragansett, but was so ter- 
rified that it was only with difficulty that they could make him 
speak. Gradually gaining confidence, he told them that Canon- 
icus, enraged at their having made peace with his enemies, the 
tribes to the north, despising the meanness of their presents to 
him, and well aware of their weakness, had determined to make 
war upon them, and that this was his challenge. 

The messenger was, by the rules of war, entitled to safe con- 
duct ; nor had they any desire to detain him. 

" Say to Canonicus that we wish to live at peace with all men. 
Tell him that we have done him no harm, and would not have 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 129 

injured him j but we are not afraid of his power, and will soon 
make him regret that he threatened us." 

Such was the message with which he was entrusted. Eefusing 
all offers of food, or of shelter, he left the village as soon as he 
could do so, and disappeared in the forest. In the council that was 
held immediately afterwards, tradition has it that it was Captain 
Standish that jerked the arrows from the rattlesnake's skin, and 
filling it to the very jaws with powder and shot, sent it to Canon- 
icus as his answer. Certain it is that such a reply was despatched 
to the chief's declaration of war, and who so likely to send it as 
the hot-blooded descendant of the old crusader ? Canonicus re- 
ceived it, and was struck with terror. Squantum had told him 
that the Englishmen kept the plague shut up in a box and could 
let it loose \ipon those that offended them; this might be, for 
aught he knew, a symbol of destruction as sure as the i^estilence; 
lie dare not destroy it, he dare not keep it, and itwas passed from 
hand to hand until it came back to Plymouth. 

The story runs (and Longfellow has made the tradition immor- 
tal) that the day this declaration was received, John Alden had 
been sent upon his memorable errand. We have already noted 
the brave captain's grief for his wife j he had found, he thought, a 
flower as fair and sweet as his lost Eose. In direct defiance of the 
one guiding principle of his life : 

"If you want a thing well done, you must do it yourself; 
You must not leave it to others," 

he sent John Alden, the young scribe whom he had chosen as his 
friend, to woo sweet Priscilla Mullins for him. Alden had just 
returned to the humble cottage which the two strangely different 
friends shared with each other, with the maiden's reply : " Why 
don't you speak for yourself, John ?" Standish had listened in 
anger, and was in the midst of his bitterest* reproaches when the 
summons came to the council. Thither he went, with what re- 
sult we have seen. 

Every precaution was now taken against a surprise by the In- 
dians. A i^alisade of strong posts ten or twelve feet high, in 
contact with each other, was put around the whole village. The 
three gates of entrance were locked by night, and guarded by 
day. Every man knew his post and his duty in time of danger. 

Secure in these preparations, and believing that a bold and 
fearless bearing would be the best to discourage the Indians, 
Captain Standish, with ten men, set out in the shallop, early in 



130 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 

April, to recommence trading with the natives. Just as the lit- 
tle vessel was doubling a promontory in the bay, one of the fam- 
ily of Squantum, his face covered with blood, came rushing to 
some men at work in the woods to bid them hasten to the pro- 
tection of the palisades. "Within fifteen miles of Plymouth, he 
said, the treacherous chief Massasoit had assembled a large war 
party and was marching to the attack of the settlement. He had 
narrowly escaped their vengeance for speaking favorably of the 
English. At this startling news, the shallop was recalled by a 
gun, and Captain Standish, returning, adopted vigorous measures 
for defense. 

Hobbomak, who had been of Captain Standish's party, declared 
the report false ; saying thatMassasoit could not undertake such a 
thing without the aid of his tributaries, of whom he himself was 
not the least. His wife was sent to Pokanoket, as a. secret agent, 
to ascertain the facts. Finding Massasoit quietly living there, 
she told him of the report. Indignant at the slander, he sever- 
ely blamed Squantum, and sent many messages of friendship to 
the Pilgrims. 

Squantum's truthfulness had been doubted before ; they believ- 
ed him, and truly, to be a friend to them, but felt that he was 
playing a double part with his countrymen. His situation was 
peculiar : kidnapped by Captain Hunt, when he was returned to 
America he found his whole tribe had been swept away by the 
plague ; without hopes of advancement by means of his kinsmen, 
and being ambitious, he endeavored to govern the Indians of 
other tribes by means of his standing with the white men. His 
invention regarding the plague has already been related ; and he 
tried to make the Indians believe that he could lead the settlers 
to declare peace or war at his pleasure ; threatening them with 
war, and when he had been propitiated by gifts, announcing that 
he had secured peace. His slander of Massasoit was intended to 
provoke such enmity between the whites and Indians that he, 
the only means of communication between them, would obtain 
added honor and influence. Massasoit demanded that Squantum 
be sent to him to be put to death, and persisted in this, not- 
withstanding Governor Bradford's plea that since he alone under- 
stood both languages, he could not be spared. This refusal in 
the teeth of the treaty by which criminals were to be delivered 
to the proper partj', enraged Massasoit, and for some time there 
was no friendly communication between them. This was the 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 181 

more dangerous, as the Indians were liable to bo stirred up by 
the news of the recent massacre of the Virginia settlers, to simi- 
lar outrages. 

Their difficulties were increased by the arrival of new colon- 
ists who proved very undesirable j and when these were settled 
at Weymouth, their prodigality of food threw them often upon 
the charity of the people at Plymouth; while their treatment of 
the Indians made enemies of the red men. Coming to want so 
often, and robbing the Pilgrims of their treasured food, necessi- 
tated frequent trips to buy corn of the Indians. On one of these 
expeditions, Squantum died, praying that he might be taken to 
the white man's heaven. This was an irreparable loss, since it 
deprived them of their best, almost their only interpreter. 

Captain Standish having been laid up with a fever, Governor 
Bradford had led most of these expeditions; but upon the 
recovery of the former, he took the shallop and went to a point 
where the governor had stored some corn. It was the midst of 
winter, and bitterly cold weather; they succeeded in reaching 
the harbor near where the corn was stored ; the weather being 
too cold to sleep in the shallop, they had to accept the hospital- 
ity of the Indians, whose sincerity they doubted. Beceived 
apparently with the utmost cordiality. Captain Standish had no 
reason to give for suspicious actions, but quietly gave orders 
that a part of the company should always watch at night. No 
hostile act justified his suspicions, and they returned home in 
safety. A second trip soon became necessary^ since a part of 
every supply of food must go to "Weymouth, and early in March 
Captain Standish went back to Manomet. 

His reception was a colder one than ever before, and he was 
now certain that the Indians were plotting against the whites. 
Into the wigwam of Canacum came two savages from the vicin- 
ity of "Weymouth, one of whom, "Wattawamat, in a speech unin- 
telligible in language, but plain in tone and gesture to Standish, 
addressed Canacum. After stating his plan to destroy the col- 
ony at "Weymouth, he went on to say that to prevent the Ply- 
mouth settlers from avenging their countrymen, they too must be 
massacred ; that this task would be made easy by killing the 
captain and his six men, now in their midst. 

Canacum seemed much impressed by this speech, and showed 
a marked difference in his treatment of his guests. A plot was 
actually formed to massacre the seven men, but was frustrated by 



132 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 

the prudence of the captain, who refused to sleep anywhere but 
in the shallop ; Avhither the Indians, having a wholesome terror 
of muskets, were afraid to venture. 

News had reached Plymouth, during Captain Standish's ab- 
sence, that Massasoit was dangerously ill — dying. Messrs. Win- 
slow and Hampden immediately set out upon a visit to the siok 
chief, and had the good fortune to cure him. Hobbomak was in- 
terpreter, and to hiin the grateful Massasoit revealed the plot of 
the Massachusetts Indians to destroy the Weymouth, and then 
the Plymouth colony. Seven tribes were in the conspiracy, some 
of whom were loud in their assurances of friendship. Hobbomak 
was instructed to tell this to the two white men as they returned 
to the town; and Massasoit added a piece of advice, founded on 
his knowledge of his race : 

"Say to them that they often say they will never strike the 
first blow. But if they wait until their countrymen at Weymouth 
are killed, who are entirely unable to defend themselves, it will 
then be too late for them to protect their own lives. I therefore 
advise them, without delay, to put the leaders of this plot to death." 

The conduct of the Weymouth colonists was leading the Indians 
to despise the white men, and the Pilgrims saw that trouble was 
not far off. It was necessary to regain the natives' respect for 
the superior race, but some time had elapsed before they could 
decide what course to pursue. At last, at the suggestion of the 
governor. Captain Standish went to visit the Indians, to careful- 
ly scrutinize their conduct, and adopt such measures as he 
might think best. He was further instructed to bring back with 
him the head of the braggart Wattawamat. 

Proceeding to Weymouth, Captain Standish gave the poor 
wretches there the invitation of the governor and people of Ply- 
mouth to their home. While the Puritan soldiers were in this 
settlement, the Indians sent thither a spy, ostensibly to sell furs. 
Eeturning with the report that, although treated with the usual 
kindness, he saw, by his eyes, that the captain was angry in his 
heart, the savages were only excited to insolence. Pecksnot and 
Wattawamat came swaggering into the village, with a mob of 
Indians at their heels. 

"Tell your captain," said Pecksnot, "that we know he has 
come to kill us, but we do not fear him. Let him try it as soon 
as he dares j we are ready for him as soon as he is ready for us." 

Pecksnot, Wattawamat and his brother, and another Indian, 



134 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 

came to where Captain Standish and four of his soldiers were. 
Pretending at first to wish to trad© furs for blankets and mus- 
kets, they threw oif this mask whtn they saw that it did not de- 
ceive the captain, and began to use the most insulting language. 
" He eat," said Pecksnot, brandishing his weapon ; *' he no 
talk, but he eat little man all up. Little man better go live with 
squaws. Pecksnot big man." 

The chief was gigantic in size, while the captain of Plymouth's 
stature was as short as his patience with the Indians. Around 
them were seen the savages, stealing from bush to bush. The 
captain never once lost his calmness or self-possession, but at a 
signal that his men well understood, he leaped upon the dusky 
giant, wrenched the weapon from his hand, and laid open his 
skull. Wattawamat and the other Indian were killed, and the 
brother of the former was afterward hanged. Dismayed at the 
result of this fierce struggle, the Indians around the house fled 
from the terrible "little man/' whose iron muscle could subdue 
Pecksnot, once the strength of the tribe, and Standish and his 
men spread their sails for home. The head of Wattawamat was 
taken back to Plymouth, and there set upon the fort — a ghastly 
sight, but not as strange in those days as it would be now. The 
decisive action of Standish in this case has been often censured, 
but we must remember the character of the enemy with which he 
had to deal — bold, cunning and treacherous, believing no man's 
word, because his own was so untrustworthy. 

Terrible tidings reached Plymouth : the gallant soldier upon 
whose generalship they relied for safety from the Indians, had 
been slain by a poisoned arrow. We may imagine the dismay 
which spread among the Pilgrims at this intelligence. Only one 
man saw any good in this misfortune, and although he bitterly 
reproached himself for rejoicing at the death of his friend, ho 
hastened to avail himself of the advantages which it brouglit him. 
So long as Miles Standish lived, John Alden would not " speak 
for himself" to Priscilla j but when the news of his friend's death 
came, he was free from the obligation. Long engagements were 
not the fashion in those days, and the wedding took place soon 
after the wooing. As the solemn pledge was given, there came 
to the door the figure of a man — 

" Short of stature he was, hut strongly huilt and athletic, 
Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron; 
Brown as a nut was his face, hut his russet beard was already 
Plaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November." 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 135 

To the startled men and women there assembled it seemed an 
illusion of the senses — a specter, — but the mail-clad figure ad- 
vanced into the room, and they saw that it was, in very truth, the 
Captain of Plymouth ; but the heat of his anger had passed, 
and he was ready to mingle his congratulations with those of 
other friends. 

Not long after this, Captain Standish went to England to ne- 
gotiate a loan for the colony, their stock of trinkets for trading 
with the Indians being exhausted, and Barbara, the sister of the 
long-remembered E.ose, became his wife. This time he held to 
his favorite motto, and did not delegate the asking to any one 
else. 

An expedition undertaken in the spring of 1682 shows clearly 
what a tower of strength the settlers thought their military lead- 
er. Into the settlement came an Indian, breathless with haste 
and terror, bearing a message from Massasoit. The JSTarragan- 
setts were marching upon his seat at Mount Hope, and he asked 
aid from the white men, who would be attacked as soon as he 
should be defeated. Four men were considered a sufficient force, 
when Captain Standish was one of them. It was true that the 
Narragansetts were advancing upon the faithful ally of the Pil- 
grims, but most fortunately their plans were changed by an in- 
road of the Pequods into their own territory. 

The difficulties of Plymouth were no longer confined to trou- 
bles with the Indians ; other settlements had been made along 
the coast, and with these and with trading vessels there were oc- 
casional disputes. At one time, an Englishman having begun 
to trade with the Indians in territory claimed by Plymouth, the 
agent stationed there by the settlers requested him to desist; he 
refused, coupling his refusal with the most insulting expressions, 
and finally fired upon the boat which contained the agent and his 
companions, one of whom was John Alden. The shot was re- 
turned, with fatal eff'cet. No one knows who fired this shot, but 
certainly it was not John Alden. Nevertheless, while in Boston 
a short time afterward, he was arrested and held foi* trial. Of 
course the'Massachusetts colonists had no right to do this, and the 
Plymouth people were justly indignant at the invasion of their 
prerogative. Miles Standish was the man selected to represent 
the facts in their true light to them, and so well did he perform 
the task that Alden was released, and love and concord renewed 
between the two colonies. 



136 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 

The French, too, gave them some trouble, as this whole coast 
was claimed by them. The chief difficulty arising from their 
jiresence was that they sold muskets and ammunition to the In- 
dians, thus enabling them to do more harm to the white men. 
Had not the tribes been again visited by such a plague as swept 
away so many thousands just before the landing of the Plymouth 
settlers, this injudicious proceeding of the French might have 
resulted in the destruction of all the colonies. 

In 1633, Caj)tain Standish removed his residence to a beautiful 
point on the northern coast of Plymouth bay, choosing an eleva- 
tion still called Captain's Hill. His dwelling was soon surround- 
ed by others who appreciated the advantages of the location, 
and the little settlement was named Duxbury, from that Lanca- 
shire Hall which should have been his inheritance. He, how- 
ever, continued to act as their chief defender against all their 
enemies. 

Early in 1637, the Pequod Indians began hostilities, endeavor- 
ing to draw the Narragansetts into a league against the whites. 
These eftorts were, however, made of no avail by the heroism of 
Eoger Williams in visiting Canonicus, to j)ersuade him not to 
listen to the Pequods. The combined force of the colonies, the 
fifty men from Plymouth being commanded by Captain Standish, 
was successful in routing the Indians. Such, for many years, was 
the end of most expeditions of the white men against the Indians. 
New colonies had arisen all along the coast of New England, and 
the brunt of the work of defense no longer fell upon a single set- 
tlement. 

Captain Standish passed the evening of his days on his farm 
at Duxbury, three miles by water from Plymouth. Here he 
stood beside the grave of Elder Brewster, that man of God who 
had been the friend of the sturdy soldier. After the death of 
his friend, he must often have thought of the strangeness oC that 
friendship, symbolized to his eye by his three muskets, lying by 
his three Bibles. In quiet and peace he passed away, October 3, 
1656, and was buried on Captain's Hill. 

On the summit of this eminence, a stately monument has been 
erected to his memory by his numerous descendants ; the shaft, 
towering a hundred feet and more into the air, crowned by a 
colossal statue of the Captain of Plymouth; where his grave is, 
no one knows; the exact spot has long been forgotten; but the 
shadow falls sometime upon it as the sun looks down on Cap- 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 137 

tain's Hill, and the air blows fresh from Plymouth over his last 
resting-place, as when it bore to his listening ear the sound of 
the gun that called hiin from his well-earned repose to repel the 
savage's attack ; sleeping there, to 

"Dream of battle-fields no more, 
Days of danger, nights of waking." 

Not many years after the death of Miles Standish, died Massa- 
soit, the firm friend of the Puritans. In general, his friendly 
attitude was fully recognized, and the settlers at Plymouth, in 
particular, scrupulously kept the peace with this ally. To his 
eldest sons, "Wamsutta and Pometacom, had been given English 
names, Alexander and Philip. The former was his father's suc- 
cessor, and for a while continued to keep his people in the same 
friendly relations which they had known for forty years. But 
whether his powers or his intentions were at fault, frequent dep- 
redations were traced to the "VVampanoags. 

Wamsutta died in a few months after his father, and was suc- 
ceeded by his brother Pometacom, or Philip. For several years 
the same state of things continued, but Philip always i^rotested 
his people were not to blame, and that he was as sincere a friend 
to the colonists as ever his father had been. Secretly, however, 
he brooded over his wrongs. Large tracts of land had been sold 
to the white men by Massasoit and his two sons, for what the 
Indians thought invaluable treasures at the time ; but the trinkets 
were lost, the blankets worn to rags, and the land remained in the 
possession of the purchasers. Like children, the Lidians had 
sold their valuable possessions for trifles, and saw too late the er- 
ror into which they had fallen. 

Nor was the loss of the land itself all of the wrong that they 
had suffered ; the vicinity of the white men had destroyed the 
charm of the wilderness ; cattle were feeding where the deer used 
to roam, and trespassed even uj^on their cornfields. The sugges- 
tion that fences be built around the fields was received with scorn. 
They had made war with the Narragansetts, with but short inter- 
vals of peace, ever since the white men had been in the country ; 
now, perhaps, they had better ally themselves with that power- 
ful tribe. The anger of the Indians was further excited by the 
attempt of the settlers to make them conform to law j if one In- 
dian killed another, was it any business of the colonists? Had 
they any right to hang the murderer — as they did whenever they 
could catch him ? 



138 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 

About 1670 Philip's intentions began to be suspected, and a 
year later the whites attempted to disarm the Indians, who had 
obtained fire-arms from various sources. The savages, however, 
knew too well what would be the result if they were again de- 
prived of all weapons but the bow and arrows and the war-club, 
and resisted so heartily that the idea was, for a time at least, giv- 
en up. Proud and haughty as he was, Philip was not cruel, nor 
was he as bloodthirsty as many have represented him. But the 
pressure brought to bear upon him was too great for him to re- 
sist, and although he did not, perhaps, intend to make war unless 
further provocation were given, he sent messengers to the various 
neighboring tribes to know their oj)inion as to the stand the whites 
had taken. Thus were welded the links of the chain which bound 
Philip to war: his warriors would despise and refuse to recognize 
a chief who remained quietly at home while the white men overran 
the country; he sent to know if other chiefs intended to act; his 
influence was such that they, supposing he wished them to do so, 
prepared for war; and Sassamon informed the white men that 
Philip and his men had conspired against them. 

Provoked at this betrayal of their chief, three of Philip's war- 
riors killed Sassamon, and were, in turn, captured and hanged by 
the authorities at Boston. Angered at this invasion of the rights 
of their chief, many of the Indians watched their opportunity, 
and stole the provisions and shot the cattle of the white people. 
Superstition, however, prevented, for the present, the loss of hu- 
man life, for the "medicine men" had warned them that the 
party that drew the first blood would be beaten. The white men 
were not disposed to submit tamely to the depredations of the 
Indians, and were always prepared to punish the off'enders. 
Lurking around the white settlements on the nineteenth of June, 
1675, an Indian thought he saw his opportunity to inflict injury 
upon one of the enemies of his race. His gun was leveled, not 
at a man, but at some oxen quietly feeding. One fell, but he 
had not time to reload when he was forced to beat a hasty re- 
treat before the owner of the animal. As he fled, a ball struck 
him; but staunching the blood, he kept on his way; to the desire 
of escape was now added the desire of telling his people that the 
whites had shed the first blood. 

Quickly the Indians prepared for war. A little bag of pounded 
maize — that was enough to sustain a warrior's strength for days 
— and all the muskets and ammunition they could get together. 



CAI>TAIN MILES STANDISH. 



isd 




140 CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 

The twenty-fourth of June was a day of fasting and prayer, 
solemnly agreed upon by the people as they recognized their 
danger. This was more immediate than they had feared. As 
they issued from the meeting-house, a sharj) crack of many 
guns ran through the little settlement of Swanzey, and one man 
fell dead. Several men were wounded, and two, who had been 
hastily despatched for a surgeon, were killed by a second vol- 
ley; later, three more fell. 

The war had begun in good earnest and there was no time to 
be lost. Messengers were sent flying over the country to bid 
the neighboring settlements prepare to defend themselves. The 
Indians, in accordance with their customs, did not venture to 
meet the colonists in battle, but burned settlements, laid am- 
buscades for the settlers, and killed the stragglers. All the 
horrors of Indian warfare had burst ujDon New England. The 
savages lurked in every forest, in every thicket; they watched 
for the lonely settler as he opened his door in the morning, as 
he busied himself with his work in the field, or as he walked along 
the forest path to meeting. The blood-curdling war-whoop, the 
gleam of the scalping knife, the deadly thud of the tomahawk, 
were familiar to their dreams and waking thoughts alike. 

The whites march'ed directly upon Mount Hope, Philij^'s seat; 
proceeding with such secrecy as to surprise the wary savages 
so completel}^ that the savage king barely escaped being made 
prisoner. Before his wigwam stood eight poles, each surmounted 
by the head of a white man. Incited to vengeance by this 
ghastly spectacle, the whites killed fifteen Indians, laid waste 
the surrounding fields and drove off all Philip's cattle and hogs. 
At Pocasset, a party of about three hundred Indians came sud- 
denly upon Captain Church's little force of thirty-six men. The 
soldiers fought bravely, until Captain Grolding brought a sloop 
to their relief. A new difficulty arose, for the water near the 
shore was too shallow to allow the sloop to approach, and a 
canoe could only carry two. But while the bullets whistled 
around them, riddling the sail, grazing the cheek of the captain, 
and passing through the canoe, the little force gained the vessel 
without the loss of a man. 

Philip had been driven from his home, and would not cease 
hostilities until his tribe should conquer, or be like the Pequods, 
exterminated. All the New England tribes but one, the Mohi- 
cans, joined the league. Their chief, Uncas, had long been the 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 141 

rival of Philip, and a faithful ally throughout the Pequod war, 
find determined to assist his white friends now; his men proved 
of great service as guides through the forest. 

The attack upon Brookfield, Massachusetts, was prosecuted 
with the most determined fury by the Indians. Their sudden 
appearance near the town sent the eighty settlers flying into the 
block-house for protection. The other houses were burned by 
the savages, and the howling, swarthy throng, numbering six or 
seven hundred, sheltering themselves behind trees and fences, 
creeping along the ground through the high grass, seemed like 
so many birds of prey watching the little flock within the shelter 
of that rude log building. A flash at a loop-hole of the block- 
house, and an Indian falls; then flash after flash, each one fatal. 
Despairing of success, they piled bundles of flax upon a cart 
which had been left near by in a field, and setting the flax on 
fire, moved the burning pile toward the block-house. But long 
before they had gotten this rude engine of destruction under 
the overhanging second floor of the fort, their design was per- 
ceived. In spite of the flames which they had hoped would con- 
ceal the dusky figures beneath the cart, the deadly fire again 
issues from the loop-holes, and at last there is no one to guide 
the load of burning flax. Then, while the balls fall like hail 
around him, a settler runs from the fort and extinguishes the 
flames, which the wind drives dangerously toward the block-house. 
Eeinforcements arrive soon afterward, and the Indians hastily 
retreat, leaving eighty of their number dead upon the field. 

The Narragansetts finally joined Philip, and fortified them- 
selves in a swamp. Around them stretched the impenetrable 
morass, only one path leading to the spot of dry land where 
clustered their five hundred wigwams. This path had been beat- 
en by the feet of the Indian, and admitted only a single file ; it 
ended at a brook, where a log formed a rude bridge leading di- 
rectly to the island. From the high palisade, around which, for 
greater protection, trees and brush had been piled, a deadly fire 
could sweep this single path. But the eleven hundred men, who 
have gathered to inflict a decisive blow upon the hostile Indians, 
know no fear. Death is certain to those who lead the attack, 
but they recall the saddened homes, perhaps a father, a brother, 
a wife, or a child slain by the hand of the savage, and not a man 
flinches. The deadly fire opens from the fort, but the determin- 
ed men rush forward so quickly that when the Indian has shot 



142 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 



one man, before he can reload, two more have pressed forward 
to fill their dead comrade's place. 

Now they gain the barricade, now they have forced their 
way into it. Hand to hand, sword to tomahawk, the battle now 
rages in the fort. Step by step the Indians are pressed back, 
until at last they turn and fly. Climbing over the high palisade, 
their light footsteps carry them through the marsh in which the 
heavily armed white man would sink waist-deep, and they es- 
cape in the woods. The Indian women and children are in the 
fort, dumb with terror and grief. Now, high into the winter sky 
rise the flames, consuming the wigwams, and even the corn prov- 
ided for the winter. Four hundred white men have been killed; 




A NARROW BRIDGE TO VICTORY. 

of the three thousand Narragansetts, a miserable remnant has 
escaped; according to the account of one of their number, who 
was among those saved, seven hundred were killed, and three 
hundred mortally wounded. By some authorities the loss of the 
whites is put at a much lower figure than that given, but the 
number of those that died from their wounds would probably re- 
move the discrepancy. Certain it is that this blow practically 
annihilated the treacherous Narragansett tribe, the chief of which 
had made a treaty with the whites not three months before the 
storming of the fort. 

Without food or shelter, exposed to all the fury of a December 
snow-storm, they took their way back to the settlements, bearing 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 143 

their wounded with them. Canonchct, the treacherous chief, was 
captured, and urged to jprocure a treaty of peace with the other 
Indians. 

" The Indians will never stop fighting/' he answered, doggedly. 

" You are condemned to death ; this is your only chance of life." 

"I shall die before I speak anything unworthy of myself." 

All through the summer of 1676 the war goes on — steadily the. 
star of the savage chief declines. His bravest warriors are dead; 
he is losing his hold over the tribes around him; in a council one 
of his men speaks of peace to him. He knows that it means dis- 
grace, and the rash counselor dies by his master's own hand. 
His wife and child are captured. 

"Now my heart breaks, now I am ready to die! " exclaimed 
he whose name had so long been the terror of New England's 
stern people. 

From that same council went forth a warrior of the Wampan- 
oags vowing never again to recognize the authority of the chief, 
never to stay his footsteps until the white man should be on that 
chiefs track; it was the brother of the murdered man. Straight 
to the English camp he stole, to guide the soldiers in the pursuit 
ofPhiliix 

Dark days had come upon Pometacom, the son of Massasoit, 
the last chief of the Wampanoags. Few followers remain to him 
— they should be men, but they have the hands of squaws and the 
hearts of serpents; they will not fight, they plot against him. 
His wife and child — who can tell how the savage loved them? — 
have been sold into slavery in the islands far out in the ocean. 
There is no hope left for him. Yet still ho is King Phili]^ of 
Pokanokct, sachem of the Wampanoags ; and with a strange dig- 
nity of feeling, the hopelessly lost man goes back to his desola- 
ted home, once the scat of his power. 

On the night of August 11, 1676, a body of men under Captain 
Church reached Bristol Neck, which connects Mount Hope with 
the mainland, and concealed themselves in the bushes. Day broke, 
and the Indians seeing themselves closely beset, rushed from 
their hiding places m great disorder, under a heavy fire. Every 
point of egress from the marsh where they had lain was guard- 
ed. Past one point, where a white man and the Indian guide 
stood, a warrior would have run ; the white man's gun missed 
its mark, but a deadlier hatred aimed the traitor's, for the fugi- 
tive was Philip. A ball pierced his heart, and he fell forward. 



CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 145 

King Philip's war was over. Still there was not yet an end to 
the fighting. The flames still smouldered, and often broke out, 
until the few Indians who survived were subdued in spirit, and 
had forgotten the traditions of their race. 

For twenty years the head of Pometaconi, the last chief of the 
"Wampanoags, looked from the gibbet at Plymouth upon the land 
of his fathers, that he had sold for trifles and would have re- 
deemed with blood • a ghastly symbol of safety to those who suc- 
ceeded him in the sovereignt}^ of his native land. 



CHAPTER T. 



GENEEAL ISEAEL PTJTKAM. 

ON" the road between Newburyport and Boston, just half-way 
between the two j)laces, stands an old farm-house of the 
better class. Fifty years is the age assigned to the newest part, 
and the history of the logs which form a part of it dates back to 
1648. When first built, it stood in the wilderness, and the sounds 
most frequently heard were the sharp and ringing blows of the 
axe and the heavy thud of the falling trees ; while the war-whoop 
of the Indian frightened into silence the birds' songs. Here, in 
the year 1718, was born Israel Putnam. Of his early years, wo 
have only the record of the Town Meeting, showing the school 
accommodations then existing — few and slight. The roads were 
so dangerous, and the clearings so far apart, that even as late as 
1725 it was unsafe for little children to go alone to school. As he 
grew older, his father's estate would have enabled him to attend 
one of the academics in the neighboring towns, but he loved the 
tangled and howling forest better than the closely. trimmed hedges 
of the towns. He left school when he had learned to write a 
large, round, school-boy hand, and before he had become thor- 
oughly acquainted with the mysteries of the spelling-book, or 
whatever may have served as its substitute. 

Whatever was his lack of school-training (and in after years 
he was much ashamed of his ignorance), he received a liberal ed- 
ucation in the arts of the forest; and his courage was early made 
manifest. Visiting Boston in his boyhood with some relative, a 
larger boy chaffed him for some time upon his personal appear- 
ance. Ho bore it patiently as long as he could, but, as forbear- 
ance ceased to be a virtue, turned suddenly upon his persecutor 
and administered a sound thrashing, to the great delight of all 
the spectators. We may believe that that Boston boy was in the 
future less disposed to make fun of rustics. 

On one occasion, the cool daring so noticeable in his after life 
10 



148 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 



was made manifest. He had climbed a tree to possess himself 
of a bird's-nest upon a limb many feet above the ground," but his 
clothes caught on the limb, he lost his balance, and hung supported 
only by the band of his breeches. There was a boy named Eandall 
in the group, who was noted for being a crack marksman, and who 
afterwards fought bravely at Putnam's side. Fortunately, he had 
his loaded rifle with him on this occasion, as on most others. 

"Jim Eandall, is there a 
ball in your rifle?" 
''Yes." 

" Do you see the limb that 
holds me here ?" 
"I do." 
" Fire at it." 

"What, to cut you down?-" 
" Of course. For what else 
could I ask it?" 

" But I might hit your 
head." 

"Shoot; better blow out 
my brains at once, than see 
me die here by hanging, as I 
shall in fifteen minutes. Shoot, 
I tell you." 

" But you will fall." 
"Will you fire?" 
Eandall brought his rifle to 
his shoulder; the sharp crack 
was echoed by the woods; 
the splinters flew; Putnam 
dropped to the ground, se- 
verely bruised by the fall. 
Making light of his hurts, 
"SHOOT, I TKLL YOU !" howcvcr, ho contiuucd to joiu 

in the sports of his companions. Unwilling to give up anything 
once undertaken, he returned alone a few days afterward, and 
secured the coveted prize. While we cannot but blame his rob- 
bery of the bird, we must see in this a prophecy of the days to 
come and the daring deeds for which he would be famous. 

Married at the age of twenty or twenty-one, in 1740 he removed 
to Pomfret, Connecticut, a tract thirty-six miles from Hartford, 




GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 149 

and on the Mohegan river. His father had followed that wise 
custom of the early New England farmers, of dividing a large 
part of his estate among his children as they grew up; thus se- 
curing to each one a means of earning his living and securing a 
competency, and preventing quarrels over his property after his 
death. After the lapse of a very few years, we find him in the 
enjoyment of a comfortable and substantial home, his clearings 
well fenced and cultivated, his pastures well stocked, and his 
sheej^-fold the pride of his heart. 

"With numerous flocks, well cared for, he carried on quite an 
extensive business in wool. But his folds, like those of his 
neighbors, suifered heavily from the depredations of a wolf, 
that for many years annoyed the sheep-raisers. Many of her 
cubs had been killed, but the old wolf had grown wary, and 
though once she had set her foot in a trap and lost her toes 
in getting loose, she had succeeded for a long time in eluding 
her pursuers. At length, finding the nuisance intolerable, he 
entered into a combination with five of his neighbors, to watch 
and hunt alternately, two at a time, and never to abandon the 
pursuit until she was destroyed. Commencing the hunt imme- 
diately after a light fall of snow, they were soon on a trail that 
could not be mistaken. Pursued over hill and valley, through 
forest and brake and swamp, at the Connecticut the wolf turned 
back in a direct course to Pomfret, still closely pursued by the 
vigilant hunters. Early the next morning, they had driven her 
into a den, about three miles from the house of Mr. Putnam; and 
here she was carefully guarded until a large number of men and 
boys had assembled, with dogs, guns, straw and sulphur, pre- 
pared for the destruction of the common enemy. 

It was a scene of general and great excitement, but their ex- 
pectations of sport bade fair to be disappointed. The instinct of 
self-preservation had led the thief to a retreat where she could 
stand an obstinate siege and defend herself with a bravery and 
fierceness quite appalling. Some of the hounds, excited by the 
chase, and eager to be at their prey, rushed headlong into the 
cavern, but returned, yelping bitterly and covered with wounds; 
and nothing could induce them to return to the charge. The at- 
tempt was now made to driveher out by another means, and great 
volumes of smoke rolled into the cave from the straw set on fire 
at its mouth. Failing in this, they tried the fumes of sulphur, 
but with no better result. Either the wolf, knowing that certain 



150 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

death at the hands of her enemies awaited her, chose to die in the 
cave, or the smoke escaping through a fissure in the walls, she 
suffered less than they thought. At any rate, their efforts proved 
fruitless for many hours. It was now near midnight, and unless 
they soon arrived at some result, their efforts would prove fruit- 
less; for most of the men there assembled had been on the alert 
nearly twenty hours. Another effort was made to induce the 
dogs to go in, but without success. 

" Take a torch and gun, and go into the cavern and shoot the 
wolf,"suggested Mr. Putnam to a servant. But the man's service 
did not require him to undertake such dangerous enterprises, and 
he declined the honor to be won at such hazard. Pindingno one 
who was willing to go, and declaring he was ashamed to have 
such a coward in his family, Mr. Putnam at once resolved to enter 
himself. His neighbors remonstrated, but in vain ; he was bent 
on accomplishing the death of the victim that very night, lest she 
should escape by some unknown passage, and achieve her safety 
by one sudden, desperate rush past the sentinels. 

Knowing the instinctive dread of fire which all wild animals 
have, he provided himself with strips of birch-bark as a substi- 
tute for torches, and without any weapon, went to reconnoiter. 
Through a passage that was at no point high enough for a man 
to stand upright, or more than three feet wide, he crawled on 
hands and knees. Smooth and solid rocks lined the cavity, the 
mouth of which is about two feet square; and a distance of more 
than forty feet must be traversed before he could reach his goal. 
Prom time to time his torch must be rekindled, or he would be 
left in utter darkness, and at the mercy of the wild beast he was 
seeking. Part of the surface was a descent, about one-fourth was 
level, and the remaining sixteen feet a gradual ascent. As he 
reached the farther end of the horizontal j)assage, he could see 
nothing but the darkness around him, made visible by the little 
circle of light surrounding his torch. Creeping cautiously on- 
ward, he saw the eyes of the wolf gleaming like fire through the 
darkness, and heard her gnash her teeth and growl as the light 
of the torch was seen. Giving the signal agreed upon, a kick at 
the rope fastened to his foot, he was hastily drawn back to his 
anxious friends. The return was not without its disadvantages, 
for his clothes were torn and his flesh badly lacerated. 

Loading his gun, and taking another handful of his impro- 
vised torches, he again descended into the narrow cave. Encum- 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 



161 



bered with his musket, his progress was of course much slower 
than before, but his knowledge of the way, and being armed, 
made it safer. Howling, rolling her eyes, snapping her teeth, 
and dropping her head between her legs, the wolf was evidently 
on the point of springing at her assailant. At this critical mo- 
ment he levelled his piece, aiming directly at her head, and 
fired. Stunned with the shock, and almost suffocated by the 
smoke of the powder, he found himself, in a few moments, again 
drawn out of the cave, though more gently than before. 




PUTNAM IN THE WOLF's CAVE. 

Being refreshed by the cold, pure air outside of the cavern, he 
went down for the third time, in order to bring away his prize. 
There, in the innermost recess of the long cavern, lay the 
dreaded animal in a pool of her own blood, perfectly insensible 
to the flame of his torch. {Seizing her by the ears and giving 
the usual signal to his friends, he was again drawn out, dragging 
the carcass with him. 

As ho emerged into the air with the body of that fearful crea- 
ture which had so long been the terror and scourge of their fields, 



162 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

he was greeted with a shout which reassured the waiting, tremb- 
ling wives and mothers at home. It echoed through the woods, 
and was heard far and near. The brave victor was escorted in 
trium^^h to his home, with the trophy of his valor borne before 
him on a litter, and the troop of volunteers was provided with 
as generous a smoking hot supper as time would allow. 

Putnam's agreeable manner, generous spirit and uniform good 
humor had already secured him the affection of his neighbors, 
while his integrity, good sense and enterprise had obtained their 
esteem. It does not take a very remarkable deed to make such 
a man a popular hero ; his exploit in the wolf's den was more 
than sufficient, and the story spread far and near, gaining as it 
went. It was said that the den was full of wolves; that it con- 
tained a bear and her two cubs ; the difficulty of access, great as 
it was, was exaggerated ; and the newspapers of England and 
Franco copied the story as thus told. 

This adventure, and others in his military experience, gave 
him the reputation of thoughtless daring. The truth was, that 
his mind was quickly made up as to the possibility and necessity 
of acting in a certain way, and having by quick and accurate 
perceptions arrived at conclusions which other men reached by 
slow and painful reasoning, he lost no time in carrying the 
quickly formed resolution into effect. Quick as a woman in see- 
ing what ought to be done, he was brave and strong as a man 
in doing it. 

His reputation grew as the years passed on, and his courage 
was shown by acts only less adventurous and daring than the 
killing of the wolf. When the French and Indian War broke 
out in 1755, he was commissioned captain of volunteers, though 
he had never seen a day's service as a soldier. Nor did he have 
any difficulty in obtaining recruits; around the standard of 
"the old wolf," as he was often called, flocked his personal friends 
and admirers ; not the outcasts, the vagabonds or the floating 
population, but hardy, industrious, respectable young men, the 
very flower of the Connecticut farmers. None of them had been 
educated as soldiers, or had had such experience, but bold hearts, 
strong arms and trust in their captain made the work far easier 
than to the mere soldier of fortune. 

Although this company was not specially designated as ran- 
gers, but attached to the regular army, its duty was of the hardy, 
bold and adventurous character usually performed by such a corps. 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 153 

This work was peculiarly suited, not only to the men, but to their 
commander. In the active and perilous duty of reconnoitering 
the enemy's posts, surprising their pickets, cutting off or captur- 
ing detached parties, waylaying convoys of provisions, he found 
ample employment for his spirit of restless enterprise, as well 
as room for the exercise of those powers of invention and strat- 
agem for which he was distinguished. 

The French and Indian war was peculiar in its requirements 
of soldiers. ISTearly all the Indians were enlisted on the French 
side, and the mountains, the forests, the river banks, the shores 
and inlets of the lakes were all infested with straggling parties 
of these ruthless marauders, whose stealthy movements render- 
ed them peculiarly formidable to the soldiery. Nor were they 
less dreadful to the settlers, who were frequently surprised in 
their homes by prowling savages; and many are the tales that 
might be told of children carried away into captivity, of others 
slain before their homes. Skulking in every thicket, in the out- 
skirts of every wood, they were always ready to spring upon the 
foe. Often the English soldiers fell by an unseen hand, often they 
were slain before they could defend themselves. This was the 
lesson which the leaders of the army had to learn, a lesson writ- 
ten in blood in the very beginning of the war. 

General Bi'addock had set out to the west to establish a chain 
of communication from Quebec to New Orleans; sending from 
time to time despatches to the authorities that after such an un- 
dertaking, which would require so many days, he would proceed 
to the next point. "After taking Fort Duquesne, I am to proceed 
to Niagara, and having taken that, to Frontenae. Duquesne can 
hardly detain me more than three or four days." In reply to 
cautions regarding ambuscades, he replied contemptuously that 
though the savages might be formidable to the raw American 
militia, they would make no impression on the king's regulars. 
Approaching Fort Duquesne, the scouts brought information of 
an ambuscade of Indians and French in the forest. The young 
aid. Colonel George Washington, advised a course which his 
experience in dealing with the Indians suggested. 

"High times," said Braddock, with an oath, "when a young 
buckskin is to teach a British general how to fight." 

The army advanced into the forest with all the pomp and cir- 
cumstance of war, only to hear the sharp crack of rifles echoed 
and re-echoed from every side. Not a foe was in sight. The ar- 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 155 

tillery was directed hither, thither; the soldiers fired at random ; 
while into their own compact ranks poured a deadly fire. The 
wild yell of the invisible enemy struck terror to the hearts of the 
king's regulars; and while the officers used every effort to en- 
courage the men to move forward and dislodge the enemy from 
his shelter, their endeavors were in vain. Sullenly the troops 
refused to obey, here and there a yet more rebellious spirit in 
the rear fired upon the officers who urged them forward. Brad- 
dock was fatally wounded, his two English aids killed, while the 
young American was singled out as a mark by more than one rifle- 
man. " Some powerful Manitou guarded his life," said a Shawnee 
chief, who averred that he had fired seventeen shots at him; two 
horses were killed under him, and four balls penetrated his coat; 
yet he escaped unhurt. The regulars, what there was left of them, 
broke and ran like sheep. The forest field of battle was left thick- 
ly strewn with the dead and dying; never had there been such 
a harvest of scalj)S and spoils ; and as evening approached, the 
forest rang with the exultant shouts and yells of the victors. 

It was just after Braddock's defeat had created consternation 
throughout the colonies that Sir William Johnson undertook an 
expedition against Crown Point and other French strongholds 
in the region of Lake Champlain. Here it was that Captain 
Putnam entered upon that great theater of honorable strife and 
hazardous adventure, where he won those enduring laurels that 
crown his memory. Fort Edward, built and held by the English, 
was unsuccessfully attacked by the French with their Indian allies; 
and the remainder of the season was passed by Johnson's forces 
in completing the intrenchments around the camp, only occasional 
skirmishes between foraging and scouting parties taking place. 
Here, sometimes in company with Captain, afterward Major 
Eogers, sometimes alone, Putnam was employed in reconnoiter- 
ing the enemy's lines, gaining intelligence of his movements, 
taking straggling prisoners, and surprising the advance pickets 
of their army. The first time the two captains went out together, 
it was the fortune of Putnam to save the life of Rogers, a service 
afterward requited with the utmost ingratitude. 

They had been sent out to obtain an accurate knowledge of 
the position of the enemy, and the strength of his fortifications 
at Crown Point; but the situation of the fort made it impossible 
to approach it with their whole party. The two leaders, how- 
ever, determined not to return without an attempt to effect their 



156 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

purpose, and concealed their men, with strict orders to remain in 
hiding until their return. Creeping stealthily forward, under cover 
of the darkness, they reached the vicinity of the fortress, and 
lay hidden there until morning. Early the following day they 
came nearer, and having completed their observations, were 
about to return to their men, when'Eogers, who was a short dis- 
tance from Putnam, suddenly encountered a Frenchman. Instant- 
ly giving the alarm to the nearest guard, the Frenchman seized 
Rogers' fusee with one hand, and with the other made an effort 
to stab him. A desperate struggle followed. The guard an- 
swered the call, and the whole garrison would soon be down up- 
on them. JSTo time was to be lost, j^et a shot would only increase 
their danger. "With the rapidity of action for which he was fa- 
mous, Putnam sprang at the Frenchman, and with one blow 
of the butt-end of his musket, laid him dead at his feet. With the 
utmost speed they fled to the mountains, rejoined their party, 
and returned to the camp without further incident. 

The fortress of Crown Point being too strong to be attacked, 
and the season being now far advanced, the colonial troops, who 
had only enlisted for the campaign, were disbanded, and Captain 
Putnam returned to the quiet scones of domestic life upon his 
thrifty farm, where his fifteen-year-old son had been left in charge. 
Eeappointed to his old command in the following year, when it 
was again resolved to reduce Fort Duquesne and Crown Point, he 
was given much the same kind of duties to pcrforia. It was in 
this latter enterprise that Captain Putnam was engaged ; and 
although it was a season of inactivity for the main body, he had 
plenty of stirring incidents in this part of his experience. 

Appointed to reconnoiter the enemy's camp near Ticonderoga, 
he took Lieutenant Durkee with him as a companion. Ignorance 
of the difference between the English and French methods of ar- 
ranging their camps had nearly proved fatal to them. The Eng- 
lish were accustomed to kindle their camp-fires along the outer 
lines of their encampment, thus laying ojienthe whole extent of 
the camp to the view of the enemy's scouts and patrols, and fre- 
quently exposing the sentinels to be picked off by exj)ert marks- 
men. The French and Indians, on the other hand, kindled their 
fires in the center, lodged their men at a distance, and posted 
their circle of sentinels in the surrounding darkness. Supposing 
that the French sentries were within the circle of the fires, the 
bold scouts crept to the camp, using the utmost caution, andsud- 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 157 

dcnly, to their great surprise, found themselves in the very midst 
of the enemy. The sentinels, almost at the same moment that 
the scouts perceived their predicament, saw by the light of the 
fire that some one had passed unchallenged, and one of them 
fired, slightly wounding Durkee in the thigh. 

Instant flight was the only alternative. Putnam, turning away 
from the glare of the fire, could hardly see his hand before him 
in the blackness of the night, and soon plunged into a clay-pit. 
Beside him, as he was groping his way to the farther side, fell 
another man, whom he was about to strike down, when he 
recognized Durkee's voice, asking him if he had escaped unhurt. 
Ecjoicing at their safety, they gained the farther side, and spring- 
ing from the pit, made good their retreat through a leaden hail 
that the French sentinels poured at random into the forest. Under 
the lee of a large log, they found shelter for the night. 

"I've a little rum in my canteen," said Putnam to his compan- 
ion, " let us drink to the confusion of those French sentinels." 

The canteen was produced, but alas for his generous intention ! 
A bullet had jDierced the tin, and there was not a drop of liquor 
there. Nor was this the only evidence of his narrow escape, for 
on examining his blanket, the next day, fourteen bullet-holes 
were found. 

"While encamped at this point, the sentinel at a certain post 
had been picked off night after night; the best and bravest 
soldiers had volunteered to stand guard at this post of honor, 
because of danger, and had shared the same .fate ; in the morn- 
ing, it was always found deserted. At last it came to be looked 
upon as suicidal to venture on duty at that place, and men hesi- 
tated, and refused to go. The commander was about to fill the place 
by lot, when Captain Putnam, whose jsosition as a commissioned 
officer excused him from all such duties, solicited the honor of 
standing guard there for the night. His offer was promptly 
accepted. 

" If you hear any noise from without the lines," the command- 
ing officer instructed him, as all other sentinels had previously 
been, you will call ' Who goes there?' three times, and then, if 
no answer be given, fire. 

Captain Putnam listened with the respect duo to his superior 
officer, and set out to his post. Every tree and shrub and rock 
m the neighborhood was carefully examined, and an exact photo- 
graph of the whole scene fixed in his mind, before he settled down 



158 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

to the tramj), tramp, backward and forward, through the live-long 
night, or until he should meet the fate of his predecessors. It was 
midnight, and only the sound of his own footsteps or the rust- 
ling of trees in the wind had as yet broken the silence. Listen ! 
In the grass a slight rustling, as if some animal drew near ^ then 
a crackling sound, as if it had found food and were munching 
it. Eaising his musket to his shoulder, and aiming at the spot 
where the noise was heard, he called out: 

" Who goes there three times V and instantly fired. The sound 
of his shot had not died away before he heard a deep groan — the 
last breath of the burly Indian who had made this j^ost fatal to 
less wary sentinels. Prom that time forward, the guards at that 
point were free from molestation. 

At some time during the summer. Captains Putnam and Eogors 
were ordered to embark with a force of one hundred volunteers 
and a suitable supply of arms, and proceed down Lake George 
to intercept a large party of the enemy that had attacked and 
plundered an American detachment in charge of a provision train. 
The force of the enemy amounted to about six hundred men. 
Nothing daunted, however, by their inferiority of numbers, the 
two loaders executed their orders with so much spirit as to arrive 
at the designated point before the hostile boats came in view. 
Concealed in the woods, they waited until the enemy entered the 
narrows, and then opened upon his boats a murderous fire. Volley 
after volley was poured upon them, many of the oarsmen being 
killed, many of the boats sunk. A strong wind swept some of 
the vessels through the narrows and thus enabled them to escape 
from the guns of their assailants, reporting the disaster at Ticon- 
deroga, and giving information that Putnam and Eogers were at 
the narrows with a large force of colonial troops. 

Three hundred fresh troops, whites and Indians, were thereupon 
despatched to cut off this party before it should reach Port Ed- 
ward, a measure anticipated by the American leaders. Although 
the latter were fully twenty miles from their boats, they suc- 
ceeded in reaching them before night, and were soon moving 
briskly down the lake. On the following day, however, they were 
sighted by the Prench, who, flushed with the hoj)e of certain vic- 
tory, advanced boldly and confidently to the attack. They were 
permitted to come within pistol shot before a gun was fired j then, 
with deadly aim, a broadside was poured upon them. The volley 
from the larger pieces was followed by the discharge of the mus- 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM, 



159 



kets, and this alternation was continued, making such dreadful 
havoc that the French, having never recovered from the first dis- 
mayed surprise, did not make even an effort to rally. Every 
volley carried death into their ranks, and the boats, crippled and 
shattered, laden with the wounded and the dying, were urged 
through the bloody w'aters back to Ticonderoga. In the two en- 
gagements, fully five hundred of the French and Indians were kill- 
ed, while the Americans lost only one man, two being wounded. 

The services upon which 
Captain Putnam was gen- 
erally employed were not 
usually, however, those of 
such note as this described. 
Planned and executed in 
secret, their success de- 
pended largely upon the 
maintenance of this se- 
crecy. The movements of 
an army, the fate of a bat- 
tle, may often depend upon 
the information given by 
a scout whose name re- 
mains unknown, whose 
services are never record- 
ed, unless by himself. 

Putnam kept no journal, gejsteral israel putnam. 

so that the few accounts of his work preserved in the orderly 
books, some stories that found their way into the newspapers, 
or were told by friend to friend and thus preserved for years, 
are all that remain as a clue to his popularity with the soldiers, 
the respect with which his superior officers regarded him, and 
the general and strong opinion that ho was destined to become 
distinguished in a broader field of action. 

One incident of this campaign will slvow the danger and value 
of his duties. Sent out with five men, to take a prisoner from 
whom information of the strength and designs of the enemy 
might be obtained, he found, on approaching the camp, a suit- 
able place of concealment in a thicket near the 7*'^ad. His men 
were very unwilling to hide themselves here, ascribing their 
leader's caution to cowardice, and it was only with difiiculty that 
he prevented them from exposing themPolvcs in such a way as 




160 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM, 

would have entirely defeated the object of the expedition, and 
added very much to its danger. He succeeded, however, in en- 
forcing his commands, and the party had not been long in the 
covert before an opportunity presented itself. An Indian, follow- 
ed at a short distance by a Frenchman, passed them. "Waiting 
until the former was far enough from his comrade to render as- 
sistance improbable, Putnam sprang from the thicket, ordering 
his men to follow. A run of thirty yards brought him to the 
Frenchman, whom he seized by the shoulder and called upon to 
surrender. The Frenchman looked around, and seeing but one 
assailant, and knowing that the Indian could return in a few mo- 
ments, resisted. Putnam's men, so brave when no danger threat- 
ened, had failed to obey his call. Thus betrayed into a most per- 
ilous situation, he stepped backward a few paces, and levelled 
his musket at the Frenchman. It missed fire. The Frenchman 
saw his advantage, and giving the alarm to his Indian comrade, 
sprang furiously upon Putnam, who judged it prudent to retreat. 
Drawing his enemy oif toward the point where his men were 
posted, he still hoped to make the desired capture, and the 
Frenchman would have fallen into their hands if they had not 
shown themselves too soon. The alarm had been given, and it 
was now a dangerous place for the scouts, so they retreated in 
all haste to the camp. There Captain Putnam dismissed his men 
in disgrace, and selecting a party upon which ho could place 
more reliance, set forth again on the same hazardous errand; 
this time with more success. 

We need not follow the elaborate preparations made in the suc- 
ceeding year by the commander-in-chief, Lord Loudon, for an 
expedition against Louisburg. The idea was abandoned when a 
French fleet arrived with large reinforcements for the garrison, 
and the general returned to New York. The French general, 
Montcalm, determined to make a bold push to secure the entire 
possession of Lake George, defended by the garrisons of Forts 
William Henry and Edward. Having acted as escort to General 
Webb from Fort Edward to William Henry, Putnam, now commis- 
sioned Major by the Connecticut Legislature, proposed to go 
down the lake andrcconnoiterthe enemy's position. After some 
delay, permisslcn was granted, but a force of eighteen was given 
him, instead of the five that he had desired. Embarking in 
three whale-boats, and intending to land in Northwest Bay, they 
discovered, before arrivi.^g there, a large body of the enemy upon 



GENERAIi ISKAEL PUTNAM. 161 

an island. Leaving two boats with directions to lie to, as if for 
the purpose of fishing, Putnam returned in the other to inform 
the general of the danger which threatened the garrison. Gen. 
Webb did not wish Major Putnam to return for the rest of his 
party, but his urgency overcame the general's fear, and he was 
reluctantly accorded permission. On the return of his escort, 
the valiant commander left Fort "William Henry, sending the 
next day a reinforcement to sustain the attack of the seven 
thoiisand French and Canadian soldiers, and the two thousand 
Indians, that arrived the day after the reinforcement invested 
the fortress. Recalling a further force of volunteers even after 
their departure, a detachment which would have defeated the 
French, since the information that it was on the way made them 
prepare to raise the siege, it seemed that Gen. Webb deliberately 
, loft Fort William Henry to its terrible fate. Fortunately for the 
safety of our northern border, he was soon superseded by an 
officer who wished to defend Fort Edward, which Webb would 
have surrendered without a shot fired in defense. 

A party of one hundred and fifty men were sent into the neigh- 
boring forest to cut timber for the fort, since Gen. Lyman had re- 
solved to strengthen its defenses ; a force of fifty British regulars 
being posted about one hundred rods east of the fort to protect 
them. A narrow causeway from their station to the fort had on 
one side a morass, on the other a small creek. A large body of 
Indians concealed themselves, under cover of night, in the swamj); 
arrow after arrow was aimed at the sentinel, tliat, with the guard 
killed by a noiseless wcaj^on, a surj^rise might be possible; one 
quivers in the tree just over his head, and he gives the alarm; a 
sudden rush from the covert, the Indians doubly enraged by the 
failure of their plans; the unarmed laborers nearest to them are 
shot or tomahawked, and the survivors fly in dismay towards 
the fort. A well-timed and sjiiritcd fire from the soldiers checks 
the pursuit, but the little party of defenders is almost overpow- 
ered, and the captain sends to the fort for a reinforcement. It is 
a cruel thing to do, but the commander feels it must be done; a 
general attack will doubtless folloM' this; outposts are called in, 
gates are shut, and the little band, fighting in the forest, is left to 
its fate. 

Major Putnam, with his corps of rangers, was stationed at one 
of the outposts, and as soon as ho heard from his runners of the 
dangerous situation of Captain Little, hastened to his assistance. 



162 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

Passing near the fort on his way, he was ordered by G-en. Lyman 
to proceed no farther. "Willing to risk not only his life, but his 
standing, to rescue his comrade, he made a brief apology, and 
hurried on to the scene of action without waiting for an answer. 
They make their way to where the little force of regulars main- 
tains its ground with desperate courage; to the music of their 
own shouts they charge impetuously into the swamp ; the Indians, 
surprised, confused, terrified, fly in every direction, and are pur- 
sued with dreadful slaughter ; only one white man falls during 
the chase, and his slayer sleeps not ten feet from where he fired 
the fatal shot. 

According to the usages of war, Putnam should have been 
court-martialed for disobedience of orders; a fault in a soldier 
which no brave achievement or brilliant success can palliate ; but 
for some reason, G-en. Lyman chose to consider that he had given 
a piece of advice, and not a command ; and commending the good 
conduct of the men, welcomed them, with hearty good will, to 
their quarters. 

Putnam's heroism was destined, in the course of the winter, to 
save the garrison from a danger as fatal as delivery into the hands 
of the Indians. A fire broke out in the barracks, twelve feet from 
which stood a magazine containing fifteen tons of powder ; and 
had so far advanced before it was discovered as to almost bid de- 
fiance to every effort to extinguish it. An endeavor to level the 
barracks by bringing heavy artillery to bear upon them, in the 
hope that the supports would be cut, was in vain ; the flames 
continued to spread with great rapidity. Major Putnam saw the 
smoke and heard the alarm at the outpost where he was stationed, 
and hastened to the assistance of the garrison. At his suggestion, 
a line of soldiers was posted to pass water to him, as, enveloped 
by the smoke, and close to the flames, he distributed it upon the 
burning rafters with a perseverance that had well-nigh cost him 
his life. Notwithstanding his eflforts, the fire raged with a violence 
that threatened to be uncontrollable, and began to shoot out fear- 
fully toward the magazine. But the efi'orts of the garrison were at 
last successful, and although Putnam was surrounded by a cloud 
of smoke, in a shower of cinders, singed and scorched on every 
side, he maintained his position near the magazine, pouring water 
upon the frail wooden partition, charred and smoking, that sepa- 
rated the flames from the powder. 

For an hour and a half Major Putnam had contended with the 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 163 

destroying element, standing so close to the flames that thick 
blanket mittens were burned from his hands. Several weeks 
passed before he recovered from the eff'ects of this terrible ex- 
posure ; but his intense suiferings lightened by the grateful atten- 
tions of the ofiicers and soldiers whose lives he had saved. 

Passing lightly over the events of the early part of the next 
campaign, where there are but few personal adventures record- 
ed of our hero, excej^t the courage displayed at the disastrous 
siege of Ticonderoga, we find several stories of little importance, 
but still interesting. One day, as he chanced to be in a boat with a 
few men on the eastern side of the Hudson, he was suddenly warned 
by signals from the opposite shore that a large number of Indians 
was in his rear and would be upon him almost immediately. 
Before him lay the rapids ; to remain where he was, or to cross 
the river exposed to the deadly aim of the Indian rifles, — such 
were the dangers between which he had to choose. Deciding 
quickly upon trying the rapids, the Indians came up before the 
boat was well under way, and one man was killed as they fired a 
number of balls. The swiftness of the current soon carried them 
out of musket-shot, but only, as they thought, to devote them to 
death among the sharp rocks and abrupt descents among which 
their boat flew. While his companions looked in terror at the 
dangers by which they were surrounded, Putnam calmly took 
the helm, and guided the frail vessel among the foaming, whirl- 
ing eddies of the stream. Now the sides are exposed to the fury 
of the waves, now the stern, next the bow glances obliquely on- 
ward with inconceivable rapidity; now it mounts the billows, 
now it sinks abruptly down ; now it is dexterously turned from 
the rocks, and plunges down the narrow passage to the smooth, 
safe waters below; while the wondering Indians, descrying his 
success from afar, and fully aj)preciating the dangers that he 
braves, declare that it would be a sin against the Great Spirit 
that has charmed his life to aim a rifle at him, if they should ever 
meet him at any future time. 

A short time after this, Putnam and Rogers were again de- 
spatched to cut off a party of the enemy that had plundered a 
train of baggage teams, but were less successful than before, as 
the French had gained their canoes and embarked before being 
overtaken. Disappointed in the object of their expedition, they 
hoped to surprise some straggling party of the enemy, and thus 
make reprisals for the loss which they had been sent out to 
11 



164 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

avenge. Discovered by the enemy's scouts, they were obliged 
to give uj) this plan and return without delay to Fort Edward. 
Through thick woods made almost impassable by fallen trees and 
by underbrush, they were obliged to advance in Indian file. Maj- 
or Putnam in the van, Captain Dalyell in the center, and Major 
Eogers in the rear. Before resuming their march, however, 
Major Rogers, singularly forgetful of the caution habitual to a 
ranger, since his success so largely depends upon it, amused him- 
self with a trial of skill with a British officer, by firing at a mark. 
One of the most necessary and every day cautions to be observed 
by the scout is that of preserving as complete silence as possible 
on the expedition, never firing a gun unless at the enemy. As 
soon as the French scouts had brought information of this party's 
presence, a force under Molang was sent to intercept it. In- 
formed by the firing of the exact position of the Colonial force, 
an ambxtscade in the woods was formed, and here, about a mile 
from the encampment, the horrid and discordant yells gave no- 
tice of the attack upon the van. Dalyell moved rapidly up to 
the support of Putnam, and the action grew general and warm ; 
but Eogers, probably instigated by that jealousy of Putnam 
which appears in his published journal, contented himself with 
forming a circular file between the other two divisions and the 
creek, to prevent an attack in the rear. 

Inspired by the heroic example of Putnam, the officers and 
men alike fought with great spirit, sometimes in masses in oj)en 
view, sometimes after the Indian fashion. Putnam had discharged 
his piece several times, and had pointed it at a large and power- 
ful Indian, when it missed fire. This warrior, availing himself 
of the unprotected state of his enemy, sprang forward, uttering 
his war-cry, and with lifted tomahawk compelled him to surren- 
der. He was immediately disarmed and bound to a tree, while 
his captor returned to the fight. 

The colonial troops were forced to give ground for a few mo- 
ments, and the savages, thinking this the commencement of a re- 
treat, made a new and more furioiis onset, certain of victory. 
But the provincials had rallied, and drove back the enemy be- 
yond the point where the battle had been raging. This success 
of his party put our hero in all the greater danger, as the tree to 
which he was bound was now in the thick of the fight. Around 
him whistled the random shots from either side, burying them- 
selves in the tree, and riddling his clothes, but with strange good 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 



165 



fortune leaving him unhurt. The malice of his enemies was less 
luckily escaped, A young Indian, seeing him confined thus, 
amused himself by hurling a tomahawk at him, apparently try- 
ing to see how close he could come to the mark without killing 
the prisoner. The weapon several times grazed his skin, and 
stuck in the tree beside his head, and the savage, satisfied at his 
skill, dc2:)arted to try it on an unbound victim. 

One of the inferior French officers came up, and levelling his 
musket at the prisoner's breast, attemj^ted to discharge it, but it 
missed fire. Putnam's declaration that he was a prisoner of war, 
and ought to be treated as such, only cnra2:cd the degenerate 
Frenchman, who re- ^^^^^^^ ^^^^ 

peatedly pushed the 
muzzle of his gun vio- 
lently against the pris- 
oner's ribs, and finally, 
giving him a cruel 
blow on the jaw with 
the butt end, left him. 

The Americans at 
length drove the ene- 
my from the field, but 
did not recapture their 
leader. As they were 
retiring, the Indian 
who had taken Putnam 
unbound him and gave 
him into the charge 
of some others of his own race. Stripped of his coat, vest, stock- 
ings and shoes, loaded with as many packs of the wounded as 
could be piled upon him, his wrists held together as closely as 
could be by a cord, he journeyed, in this painfnl manner, for many 
tedious miles. With hands swelled from the tightness of the cord, 
with feet torn and bleeding, exhausted by a burden beyond his 
strength, and frantic with torments, he implored instant death as 
an end to his torture. A French officer, interposing, ordered his 
hands to be unbound and some of the packs to be taken off; and 
his captor, who had hitherto been employed about the wounded, 
gave him a pair of moccasins, exj)ressing great indignation at the 
treatment he had received. 

But his torments had only begun. The chief was obliged to 





~l%l^.^Js^^^ 



166 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

return to tlie care of the wounded, and the Indians, taking -with 
them their prisoner, went on before the rest of the party to a 
place selected for that night's encampment. He was treated with 
the utmost barbarity, carrying to his grave the scar of a toma- 
hawk wound inflicted then upon his cheek. Led into a dark part 
of the forest, stripped to the skin, bound to a tree, surrounded 
with dry brush, death in its most horrible form seemed inevita- 
ble. "With yells and cries that were a fitting prelude to human 
sacrifice, the savages gathered around him, and set fire to the 
brush. A sudden shower quenched the flames, but nothing could 
divert them from their purpose, and at last the blaze ran fiercely 
around the circle. The inhuman joy of his tormentors manifest- 
ed itself by yelling, dancing, gesticulating, as he shifted his body 
from side to side as the fire approached. Hope was long since 
fled, and he had resigned himself to his dreadful fate, fixing his 
mind on that happier state of existence to which his soul would 
soon pass, when the orgy suddenly ended. A French officer — Mo- 
lang himself, the leader of the exjoedition, — rushed through the 
crowd, scattered the brands and unbound the victim. Severely 
reprimanding the savages, he remained with the prisoner until 
he could deliver him in safety into the hands of his first captor. 

The savage approached his priconer kindly, and seemed to 
treat him with aff'ection, adapting the hard biscuit, which was all 
the food he could off'er, to the wounded man's condition, by soak- 
ing it in water. But he had no idea of allowing him to escape, and 
at night he was secured in this way : his moccasins were drawn 
over his arms, and each arm, stretched at full length, bound fast 
to a young tree ; each leg secured in the same manner; his body 
was covered with bushes; around him lay a large guard of In- 
dians. His march the next day was less exhausting than it had 
been, as he was permitted to have moccasins and a blanket, was 
not obliged to carry any pack, and was protected from injury. 

Arriving at Ticonderoga at night, he was placed under a 
Prench guard, and treated with the humanity that civilized na- 
tions accord to their prisoners of war. Being soon afterward 
sent to Montreal, where there were several other prisoners, he 
had the good fortune to meet with Col. Schuyler, whose influence 
secured him the treatment due to his rank, and whose liberality 
supplied him with necessities and comforts. The capture of Fort 
Frontenac by the English gave occasion for an exchange of pris- 
oners, and Col. Schuyler, concealing the fact that Major Putnam 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 167 

was a valuable and distinguished partisan officer, and represent- 
ing him as anxious to be at home with his family, secured the ex- 
change of the nlan he had already befriended. 

Many months now pass before we find our hero again in the 
van of the fight, though, perhaps, the forests and the lake shores, 
if they could but speak, would tell us of brave deeds and daring 
adventures. We find him, in 1760, a lieutenant-colonel in the 
army about to attack Montreal, the dislodgment of the garrison 
on Isle Eoyale being a necessary preliminary to their undertak- 
ing. But the island was guarded by two armed vessels of twelve 
guns each, a broadside from one of which would demolish the 
whole fleet of British boats. Approaching General Amherst, 
Lieut. Col. Putnam said: 

" G-eneral, that ship must be taken." 

" Yes," answered the commander, " I would give anything if 
she were taken." 

" I'll take her, sir." 

"^How?" asked Amherst, with a smile of incredulity, perhaps 
of pity for the subordinate officer's folly. 

" Gi-ive me some wedges, a mallet, and a few men of my own 
choosing, and I will soon put her out of your way." 

Puzzled to think how such a vessel could be taken by such 
means, he had yet sufficient trust in the ability, ingenuity and 
daring of the provincial to give him what he requested, and await 
the result with impatience. Rowing a light boat with muffled 
oars, and hardly daring to breathe, Putnam and his chosen few, 
in the darkness of the night, approached the vessel, stole unper- 
ceived under her stern, and noiselessly drove the wedges home 
between the rudder and the stern-post, so as to render the former 
quite immovable. Deprived of her helm, the vessel was left to 
the mercy of the elements, and soon drifted helplessly ashore, 
where she struck her colors at the first summons. Her compan- 
ion also soon surrendered, so that this victory was won without 
the loss of a man or the firing of a gun on either side. 

The singular and simple machines used in the attack of the 
fortress were also the product of Putnam's Yankee ingenuity. 
The sides of the boat being covered with musket-proof fascines, 
a wide plank, twenty feet in length, was fastened to the boat in 
such a way that it could be raised or lowered at jjleasure. The 
fortress was defended by an abatis projecting over the water, the 
sharpened branches rendering storming an almost impossible feat. 



168 liKWEKAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

Protected by this plank in an upright position, the men in the 
boat forced the bows against the abatis, and then lowering it, 
used it as a bridge over the upright branches to the more solid 
walls. The garrison did not offer any resistance, but capitulated 
on seeing these strange engines. 

Montreal capitulated upon the arrival of the English forces, 
and the conquest of' Canada was thus bloodlessly effected. A 
short distance from this city, Putnam saw the Indian who had 
made him prisoner in the previous campaign, and was enter- 
tained by him with every mark of friendship and honor; while 
the American was no less pleased to proffer the brave savage 
protection in this reverse of his military fortunes. 

Putnam's services in the West Indies, whither an expedition 
was sent in 1762, w^ere of more importance than interest. The 
shipwreck of the vessel containing his command did not long 
delay him, as he immediately put his men to work building rafts, 
with which to reach the shore, whence m a few days he joined 
the troops before Havana. He was now in command of a regi- 
ment of regular troops, with no opportunity for the adventurous 
life of a ranger, for which he was so well suited. 

It was hoped that, since the English had finally driven the 
French from North America, that the savages Avould desist from 
their depredations, and leave the colonies to pursue the advan- 
tages that had been gained in this long and sanguinary conflict. 
But it was a vain hope. Some of the Indians, indeed, laid down 
their arms, but many of the tribes on the western frontiers still 
continued hostilities — not, as before, to sustain or restore the 
French dominion, but apparently with a view to regaining, for 
themselves, some part of the immense territory which had been 
wrested from them. Even at that early day, the sagacity of 
Pontiac foresaw the extermination of his people — a work not 
yet, indeed, completed, but which the second centennial may re- 
gard as a thing accomplished. He foresaw what a hundred and 
twenty years have taught his race — that the intrusion of the 
whites to the west meant perpetual encroachment, treacherous, 
over-reaching negotiations and diplomacy, and ultimately, the 
complete annihilation of the tribes that once possessed America. 
He saw that the nations, divided, could not stand against the 
united English, and secured the co-operation of the Shawnees, 
the Delawares, and all the tribes along the Ohio, and east of the 
Mississii>}5i, his own people, the Ottawas, of course taking part. 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 



169 



In pursuance of this jjlot, Pontiac sent word to Maj. Gladwin, 
the English commandant of the fort at Detroit, that he was com- 
ing on a certain day, with his warriors, to talk with him. His 
secret intention was to seize the fort, and massacre the garrison. 
The warriors were to cut down their rifles to such a length that 
they could conceal them under their blankets. 

The consjjiracy was well planned, and so quietly arranged that 
no suspicion was excited, until a young squaw betrayed him in 
June, 1763 ; so that when the treacherous visit was paid. Major 
Gladwin was well prepared, and unmasked him, but unwisely 




INDIAN SQUAW BETRAYING PONTIAC'S CONSPIRACY. 

let him go. Within two weeks all the English garrisons and trad- 
ing posts west of Oswego, except ]S'iagara, Fort Pitt and Detroit, 
had fallen into his hands; so well did he maintain his position 
that it was only with difficulty that the English could hold these 
three points. In 1764, Col. Bradstreet was sent with a force to 
reduce the Indians, Col. Putnam being in command of the troops 
from Connecticut. Among the allies of the English on this ex- 
pedition were the old Indian chief who had captured Putnam, and 
Joseph Brant, the famous Mohawk chief, who was afterward to 
become odious to Americans during the Revolution, and then, 



170 



GENERAL ISRAEL tUTNAM. 



acting as peace-maker, disseminate Christian knowledge among 
his people. 

Putnam's services on this expedition were better suited to his 
present rank than if they had been such as he was accustomed to 
jjerform, but they are scarcely of as much interest as when he led 
a few men into danger, and safely accomplished the task set. The 
part that he had acted in this war, from its beginning in 1755 to 
the defeat of Pontiac's conspiracy in 1764, had been one of j^ecu- 
liar hardship and peril. Always in the van when charging the 
enemy, in the rear when a retreat was ordered, stationed among 




PONTIAC S VISIT TO MAJOR GLADWIN". 



the outposts when the army was in camp, hidden in the woods or 
ranging along the shores of the lake, his was never the safe and 
easy part that such officers as G-en. Webb chose. His courage, 
his complete indifference to danger, his fruitfulness of resources, 
commanded the admiration of all. 

He laid aside his uniform, and returned to his farm. Ten years 
of military life, crowned by the recognition of the integrity, 
courage and patriotism which his promotions showed, had not 
impaired the kindliness of his nature, nor inflated him with pride. 
But now that military honors were laid aside, the civic crown 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 171 

awaited him, and to post after post of honor and trust the united 
voice of his fellow-citizens called him, until he again unsheathed 
his sword for his native land — not for its safety, hut for its liberty. 

In the meantime, Gen. Lyman had secured from the English 
government a grant of land in the far west, as it was then, and a 
colony was oi'ganized to go to the mouth of the Mississippi. Of 
these Military Adventurers, as the company was called. Col. Put- 
nam was one, and in 1774 accompanied several other gentlemen 
similarly interested, on a trip then as dangerous and difficult as 
one to Siberia would be now. The steamboat was not known, 
the railroad had not been dreamed of, and the voyage was a long 
and tedious one. The passage up the river, too, was laborious, 
since even the snag-boats were not in existence. A settlement 
was really formed at Natchez, but Putnam's thoughts were di- 
verted from enterprises of private gain to devising and executing 
measures for the public weal. He had already taken active part 
in that resistance which led to the repeal of the Stamp Act and 
similar obnoxious laws, and he returned home now to make prep- 
arations for the war which was seen to be inevitable. 

The time of waiting passed away — the waiting for the storm 
to break. The dull mutterings had been heard by the prophetic 
ears of statesmen and soldiers, and the roar of thunder from the 
guns of Lexington aroused the country. The militia seized the 
arms which had been kept in constant readiness, and hastened to 
the scene of action. A mounted drummer spread the alarm. 
Putnam unj'oked his team of oxen from the plough, and bidding 
his son go home and tell his mother where he was gone, mounted 
his horse and dashed off towards Boston. In twenty -four hours 
he had ridden the hundred miles. 

Returning almost immediately to Connecticut to raise troops, 
he was, by the legislature of that state, commissioned as briga- 
dier-general ; and on his return to Cambridge was assigned an 
important post. Putnam's experience in the French and Indian 
war served him in good stead, and like many others, his reputa- 
tion served to attract the attention of the British commanders. 
One of their favorite measures, to weaken the force of their ad- 
versaries, was the attempt to win over to the king, by bribes of 
gold and offers of distinction, some of the ablest and bravest of 
our generals. With some they were successful, but although 
Putnam was offered a commission as major-general, a large pe- 
cuniary compensation for his services and liberal provision for 



172 GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

his sons, he rejected the proposition with a contempt and dig- 
nity befitting his true-hearted patriotism and manhood. 

Gen. Putnam's position at Bunker Hill has been the subject of 
considerable controversy, but it is now generally conceded that 
his conduct was distinguished by the utmost intrepidity. His 
previous experience had, as before stated, gained him the respect 
of the British officers with whom he had sei-ved. " If you take 
General Putnam alive," said General Abererombie, who had re- 
ceived his death-wound in front of the redoubt, "do not hang 
him, for he is a brave fellow." But though he was, throughout 
the engagement, in the thick of the fight, urging his men onward, 
counselling anything but retreat, entreating all to maintain their 
ground, he escaped wounds and captivity. But retreat was inevi- 
table, since the ammunition of the Americans was exhausted. 
Putnam, though the balls fell like hail around him, was, as usual, 
wholly insensible to danger, and dismounting, took his stand by 
one of the deserted field-pieces, seeming resolved to brave the 
enemy alone. Dressed in a light blue and scarlet uniform, with 
his head uncovered and his sword waving toward the enemy, as 
if to arrest their impetuous pursuit or defy their advance, painter 
and poet have combined to make him no less conspicuous than 
he deserves to be. 

The Continental Congress was even then in session, and soon 
commissioned officers to lead the colonial armies from those who 
had been provincial leaders, Putnam being one of the four major- 
generals. In the work of fortification, he proved invaluable. 
" You seem to have the faculty, sir, of infusing your own indus- 
trious spirit into all the workmen you employ," said Washing- 
ton, who had not known him before his arrival at Cambridge. 
The importance and difficulty of the task so well performed can 
hardly be over-rated ; to put men who had taken up arms for the 
defense of their country, and who were burning with zeal to dare 
all dangers in that noble cause, to cutting down trees and 
digging ditches, was to give orders which none wished to obey. 
Many of the subordinate officers, too full of the dignity of their 
position, did not enter heartily into the spirit of the commander. 
On one occasion, when a breast-work was being thrown up on 
Ploughed Hill, half a mile from the enemy's intrenchments on 
Bunker Hill, Putnam, superintending the work with his usual 
vigilance, came to .where a quantity of sods had just been 
brought up. Addressing a man standing near, he said : 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 



173 



''You are a soldier, I supj^osc. Place these sods on the wall." 

Seeing that the man proceeded very slowly to execute the 
order, Putnam added, in a mock-apologetic tone : 

"Oh ! I see you are an officer," and setting to work he placed' 
the sods in position himself. 

Important as his services were, and recognized as such by his 
contemporaries and by historians of later date, we must j)ass 
them lightly over, for to follow Putnam through the war would 
require a complete history of the contest in the northern half of 
the country. Not even when he plunges down the precij)itous 
declivity at Horseneck, to the amazement of the British huzzars 
hesitating on the brink of the hill, may we follow him, though 
the same spirit animated him in this daring and successful effort 
to escape, that led him into the wolf's den, or down the rapids 
of the Hudson. 




ri/fNAJl's ILIOIIT DO^\N■ THB, R(J( ks AT UOIvSENECK. 

Brave even to rashness when anything was to be accomplish- 
ed by sheer courage, he held in utter detestation and contempt 
the so-called code of honor. Nevertheless, the records of two 
duels remain to us, in both of which he came off victor. 

It once happened that he, unintentionally, grossly offended a 
brother officer, who demanded reparation. Heated by wine and 
excitement, Putnam professed his readiness to accommodate the 
gentleman with a fight; and it was agreed that they should meet 



174 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 



the next morning, without seconds. His opponent, armed with 
sword and pistols, entered the field at the time set ; Putnam had 
taken his stand at the opj)Osite extremity, thirty rods away, and 
immediately levelling his musket, fired j proceeding deliberately 
to reload his gun as soon as it was discharged. 

" What are you about to do ?" was the angry question ; " Is 
this the conduct of an American officer, and a man of honor ?" 

" What am I about to 
do? A pretty question 
to j5ut to the man whom 
you intend to murder ! 
I'm about to kill you; 
and if you don't beat a 
retreat in less time than 
it would take to hang a 
Tory, you're a gone 
dog." 

The ramrod was re- 
placed, the gun levelled 
again, but the belliger- 
ent officer had no de- 
sire for that kind of a 
duel, and turning, fled 
for dear life. 

The second duel was 
equally characteristic. 
An English officer, a 
prisoner on parole, 
taking offence at Gen. 
poNTiAc. Putnam's reflections 

upon the character of the British, demanded satisfaction as for 
a personal insult. Putnam readily accepted the challenge, and 
having, of course, the choice of weapons, agreed to be at a cer- 
tain place next morning with arms for both jjarties. Arrived 
at the appointed spot, the Englishman found his opponent, un- 
armed but for his sword, sitting calmly smoking by the side of 
a powder-barrel, into a small opening in the top of which a 
common match was inserted. Requesting the Englishman to sit 
down on the other side of the cask, he lit the match with his 
pipe, and went on smoking unconcernedly, remarking that their 
chances were equal. Eor a moment the Englishman watched 




GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 



175 



the match, but as the fire crept slowly down towards the powder, 
he started up and beat a hasty retreat. 

" You are just as brave as I took you to be," said Putnam, 
strolling leisurely toward where the Englishman had halted. 
" That is nothing but a barrel of onions, with a few grains of 
powder scattered over the top, to try you. But you don't like 
the smell." 

Early in December, 1779, Gen. Putnam obtained leave of ab- 
sence and went to' visit his family in Connecticut. Before the 
end of that month, he set 
out on his return to camp, 
but had proceeded only a 
few miles when a numbness 
seized upon him, and he 
found himself unable to 
move the limbs on one side 
of his body. Beaching, with 
some difficulty, the house 
of a friend, he endeavored 
to shake the disease off by 
active exertion, but an at- 
tack of paralysis was not 
to be cured by such a sim- 
ple remedy. He indeed re- 
covered so far that moder- 
ate exercise in walking or 
riding was not impossible, 
but he must henceforth live 
a comparatively retired 
and inactive life. His mental faculties, his relish for social en- 
joyments, his love of pleasantry, he retained undiminished for 
more than ten years. 

After a life spent on the farm and in the army, respected alike 
as a bold and valuable j)artisan, a brave and good general, an un- 
shaken patriot, an industrious, sensible man, a good husband, a 
provident father, and, in the later years at least, a sincere Chris- 
tian, he passed quietly away on the nineteenth of May, 1790, and 
was buried with all the honors that can be accorded to a dead 
soldier. He had seen the French dispossessed of their vast em- 
pire in the new world • he had witnessed the efforts of the Indians 
to regain the heritage of their fathers, and probably heard in 1769, 




KILLING OF PONTIAC. 



176 GENERAL ISRaEL PUTNAM. 

■with a feeling of relief, that Pontiac, the head of that conspiracy, 
had been treacherously slain by one of his own race in the flourish- 
ing frontier settlement of Cahokia, the site of which is now the 
bed of the Mississippi near St. Louis ; he had seen the English, 
in their tui'n, dispossessed of the greater part of their empire 
here, retaining, not what they had settled, but what they had 
conquered; he had seen the united colonies erected into the 
"free and independent states" which of right they had long been, 
and prospering under the rule of the first j)resident; in all these 
dangers and conflicts, he had borne a leading part; he "dared to 
lead where any dared to follow." 



CHAPTER YI. 



CAPTAIN" SAMUEL BEADY. 

BEADY'S Lake, Brady's Eun, Brady's Hill — these and more 
places in the region of Western Pennsylvania and Ohio, 
attest that a hero of the people lived there and fought for them; 
for in the days when these names were given, such respect was 
shown only to the hrave men who defended the helpless from 
savage foemen. The evidence of a name may sometimes be false, 
or at least convey an erroneous impression, but in this case his- 
tory teaches the truth of the inference we naturally draw. 

Born in Delaware in 1756 or 1758, Samuel Brady was but a 
child when he was taken by his parents to their new home in the 
western part of Pennsylvania. Here he grew to boyhood, his 
appetite for adventure being amply fed by the contests of the 
settlers with the savages ; but of his own special exploits we learn 
nothing until the beginning of the Eevolulion. Enlisting in 
Capt. Lowden's company of volunteer riflemen in 1775, a com- 
mission was offered him, but his father caused him to decline the 
glittering title. 

" Let him first learn to obey," said sturdy John Brady, " and 
when he has learned that lesson, he will know all the better how 
to act as an officer." 

But his cool courage soon raised him to the place of a com- 
missioned officer, in spite of his father's refusal. Once in the 
army, the judgment of his superiors must be his only guide, and 
they soon decided that the young volunteer was not to remain a 
private. The promotion, however, did not take place until after 
they had reached Boston. In that city lay the British force, 
and surrounding it were the soldiers of the colonies. Lowden 
being directed to select a body of men to wade to a certain island 
at low tide and drive away some cattle belonging to the British, 
did not include Brady in the party. Brady was not the man, 
however, to wait for an invitation to join such an excursion, and 



178 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 

in defiance of military rules, made one of the number without 
the captain's knowledge. Somewhat to the leader's surprise, 
then, the second man on the island proved to be the one not cho- 
sen because he was too young. Nor was this the only evidence 
that Lowden received of his youthful subordinate's courage. 
Sitting together on a fence one day, viewing the British fortifi- 
cations, they were thrown to the ground by a cannon ball which 
shattered their support. Jumping up first, Brady raised Lowden 
in his arms, with the re-assuring, "We are not hurt, Captain." • 

Appointed first lieutenant of another company in 1776, he was 
in all the principal battles of the two succeeding years, being 
made captain for gallant conduct on the field of Monmouth (June 
28, 1778). The murder of his brother in August of that year, and 
of his father ten months later, by the merciless hand of the red 
man, gave his feelings another direction. Heretofore he had 
indeed looked upon the Indians as unfriendly to the whites, but 
it was a hostility of far less importance than that which threat- 
ened to keep the entire country under the iron heel of its foreign 
master. Now, his whole soul was filled with hatred against the 
murderer of his father and brother, and the feeling was never 
softened by years. 

At Princeton and Paoli the young lieutenant had been present 
as well as at Monmouth; but the latter was the last notable bat- 
tle of the Kevolution in which he fought. Henceforth, his con- 
tests were to be in the lonely wilds of the western forests, with 
a foe who knew nothing but woodcraft and cruelty. For seven 
years of his boyhood and youth he had been a dweller in "Western 
Pennsylvania, then a sparsely settled wilderness; and if in that 
time he had learned the Indian lore, eye and ear were sharpened 
now by the desire of revenge. 

We hear no more of him for nearly two years after this last 
named battle. In 1780, Washington sent to Gen. Broadhead, in 
command of a small fort within the present limits of Pittsburgh, 
directing him to despatch a suitable officer to Sandusky to exam- 
ine the place and ascertain the numbers of the British and Indians 
stationed there. It was the sagacity of the commander-in-chief 
providing in every quarter against danger, as this section was 
harassed by continual depredations, and in daily expectation of 
a more systematic attack. A good leader finds good followers, 
and Gen. Broadhead did not disappoint the hopes of the com- 
mander-in-chief by selecting any but the best man for the 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 179 

work — Captain Samuel Brady. Selecting him without hesitation 
as best fitted for the perilous mission, the officer provided him 
with a rough map of the country that he must traverse, and gave 
him command of a suitable party. 

Brady knew too well the perils of the wilderness to under- 
rate the dangers of his present errand ; but he fully understood 
the importance of the mission, and any danger or hardship which 
he might undergo was nothing when the welfare of his country 
was to be advanced. The appointment was accepted, and accom- 
panied by a few soldiers and four Chickasaw Indians as guides, 
he set out in the direction indicated. It was early in May, and 
the season unusually wet. Every stream on their way they found 
swollen to a torrent. The map which guided them, though 
probably as good as could be made of that section at that time, 
was so faulty as to mislead them seriously j the distances measured 
on that appeared much less than they really were ; indeed so great 
was the difference that the food with which they were provided, 
and which had been calculated as sufficient for the journey, gave 
out before they reached home. Creeping stealthily through the 
woods by night, and concealing themselves in the trees by day, 
they managed to escape observation where the print of a white 
man's foot on the yielding soil of the prairie or the dry sand of 
the river bank might have meant death to all. This security 
was doubtless partly due to their costume, which was that of 
the Indians, and to their leader's acquaintance with the Indian 
languages. 

Hardly had they come in the neighborhood of Sandusky, when 
the four Chickasaws deserted. This defection was alarming, 
from the weakness of their party, which would, of course, be ac- 
curately described to the enemy. Nothing daunted, however, he 
pushed on, and came in sight of the Sandusky towns. Conceal- 
ing all of his men but one, these two waded out to an island op- 
posite the town and hid themselves in the driftwood with which 
it was partially covered. Here they remained divring the night. 
Awakening early in the morning, they found everything hidden 
by a dense fog which covered river and shore, leaving visible 
only the logs and brush near enough for them to touch. This fog 
lifted about eleven o'clock, showing them about three thousand 
Indians amusing themselves with races. 

So fully occupied were the Indians with their pleasure, that 
Bradj-'s party escaped notice. Leaving tlio island at night, the 
12 



180 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 

two soldiers rejoined their companions, and returning to a camp 
which they had seen on the niglit before, captured some squaws 
who were there alone. Satisfied with the information which 
they had obtained, they began the march homeward ; but so great 
was the difference between the real and estimated distances that 
both provisions and ammunition failed them by the time that they 
had reached the Big Beaver. With his last load in his rifle, 
Brady left the party to follow a deer track which he discovered. 
Going butafew rods, he saw the deer standing broadside to him, 
and taking aim, fired ; or rather attempted to fire, for the gun 
flashed in the pan, and he had not a priming of powder left. Sitting 
down a moment, he picked the touch hole, and then started on. 
Following the turnings of the path, he saw a party of Indian 
warriors, the chief in front, mounted, having a child before him 
and its mother behind him. Brady raised his rifle and stepped 
behind a tree to wait until he could fire at the Indian without en- 
dangering the sleeping child or its mother. An opportunity soon 
occurred, and as the sharp crack of the rifle broke the stillness, 
the chief fell from his horse. Calling to his men with a voice 
that rang like the blare of a trumpet, he sprang to the chief's 
side, not for his scalp, but for the greater prize of his powder- 
horn. Bewildered by his action, the woman asked^ of the seeming 
Indian : 

"Why did you shoot your brother ?" 

Catching up the child, and recognizing the woman, he said to 
her: 

"Jenny Stupes, I am Captain Brady; follow me and I will 
save you and your child." 

Into the brush he dashed wuth his helpless burden, followed 
by the mother, untouched by the balls from the rifles of the 
other Indians, who had fallen a short distance behind their chief. 
Dreading an ambuscade of a hostile party of their own race, as 
they supposed, these were glad enough to make off without fol- 
lowing up their late prisoners. Arriving the next day at Fort 
Mcintosh with his proteges, he found his men awaiting him. 
They had heard and recognized his call, but having no ammuni- 
tion, had beaten a successful retreat, leaving the squaws that they 
had taken prisoners at Sandusky to return to their dusky lords 
at their pleasure. 

So thoroughly had the cruel jiractices of the Indians been adopt- 
ed by the white men that Brady was not contented until he had 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 181 

sought out the body of the Indian he had slain. The command- 
er gave him several soldiers, in addition to his own party, and 
the scene of the rencontre was found without any difficulty 3 but 
the body of the savage had been removed by his followers. A 
careful examination of the trail failed to disclose any appearance 
of such a burden having been carried away. For some time 
they hunted for a grave in vain. So great had been the care ex- 
ercised in replacing the earth and the sod that they might have 
walked over the spot, had not the branches, stuck in the ground 
to still further conceal the place of interment, been withered, thus 
defeating the very end they were to serve. About two feet be- 
low the surface they found the body of the warrior, adorned and 
armed as though for the combat, and, barbarous as it may now 
seem, his scalp was promptly taken. 

While the story of his life abounds with stirring adventures, 
the very fact that his hatred to the savages was always the same, 
renders it impossible to ascertain, accurately, at this late day, the 
precise or even the relative time of each one. The reader must 
then understand that while various authorities have endeavored 
to place in their exact order the stories which shall be told, they 
differ among themselves to such an extent that, while the fact 
remains, we can only guess when it occurred. 

It was probably during his return from the Sandusky expedi- 
tion that he felt satisfied that he had been tracked. He knew 
that with the precautions he had taken, in the way of keeping to 
the dry ridges, walking on fallen logs as muclk as possible, and 
similar devices, even the children of the forest could not follow 
him without a dog. Walking along the trunk of a fallen chest- 
nut tree, he concealed himself in the pit made by the tearing up 
of the roots. He had not waited long before a little dog came 
snuffing along the trunk of the tree, closely followed by an In- 
dian. There were probably more Indians on the trail, but only 
the one dog; one, therefore, would be instantly replaced, the 
other would be an irreparable loss. Such was the reasoning 
which determined Brady to fire upon the dog. As the little ani- 
mal rolled dead from the log, the Indian turned and fled back 
into the forest with a wild whoop. Brady was not followed again 
on that expedition. 

So annoying had been the depredations of the Indians that on 
one occasion Gen. Broadhead resolved upon a retaliatory expe- 
dition, to be commanded in person, Brady being at the head of 



182 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 

the advance guard. Near the creek emptying into the Alleghany 
Eiver, known now as Brady's Bend, the rangers, who were some 
distance in front of the main body, discovered a war-party of 
Indians approaching. Knowing that the main body of soldiers 
would easily defeat the savages, Brady and his men left the trail 
they were pursuing, and turned aside to seize a pass farther up 
the river. Everything turned out as they had supposed it would, 
and the Indians were defeated in both fights, with the loss of 
their famous chief. Bald Eagle, and many of their warriors. The 
little army of white men proceeded on the path they had marked 
out for themselves, and having destroyed the corn of the Indians 
and indulged in various methods of retaliation, returned home. 
It was probably but a short time after his return from the San- 
dusky expedition that the smouldering envy of his brother offi- 
cers was fanned into flames by his frequent successful expedi- 
tions. To such an extent did the feeling grow that they openly 
requested Gen. Broadhead to permit them to share in the dan- 
gers and honors monopolized by Captain Brady. The command- 
ing officer informed Brady of this, and he readily consented to 
give the others a chance. 

An opportunity soon occurred for his envious comrades to dis- 
tinguish themselves in his chosen field, for news having been 
brought to Pittsburgh of a murderous attack uj^on the settlement 
at Sewickly, thev were despatched with a large party to avenge 
the massacre. Much against his will, Brady remained in Pitts- 
burgh. On the day after that on which the emulous officers had 
set out, Brady requested that he might be allowed to "go catch 
the Indians." The desired permission was at first refused, but 
by dint of long pleading, he succeeded in obtaining a party 
of five white men and a "pet" Indian. The larger force 
had moved directly upon Sewickly, intending to follow up the 
trail from that point. Brady calculated what their course 
would most probably be, and with silent speed moved forward 
to intercept them, instead of pursuing them. This plan proved 
successful, and they hid themselves near the Indian camp. A 
horse that the Indians had carried off from Sewickly came very 
near betraying their hiding place, seeming determined to keep 
near them, and it was with difficulty that Brady could refrain 
from tomahawking the Indian who came to look after the stolen 
property; but he hoped to secure much greater results by wait- 
ing a little longer. 



Captain samuel brady. ISS 

Gathering all the plunder that they could find in the camp, and 
taking the stolen horse with them, the party now returned to 
Pittsburgh, descending the river in the canoes of the Indians. 

Posting themselves near one camp as soon as the Indians ap- 
peared to be asleep, they awaited, in dead silence, the aj^proach 
of light. At daybreak the Indians awoke, and standing about the 
fire, recalled the triumphs of the previous days ; the scalj^s taken, 
the booty carried off, the injury inflicted on their enemies. But 
their exultation was short-lived — the avenger was near. Seven 
rifles united in a deadly chorus — one sharp note, — and five of the 
savages fell without knowing what had killed them. The wild 
cry of their most dreaded enemy was heard in their midst, his 
men were among them, he himself was there; and the Indians 
who had not fallen instantly fled. One who was mortally wound- 
ed was pursued by the trace of blood ; having staunched its flow, 
he endeavored to escape; the "pet" Indian gave the cry of a 
young wolf; the wounded man paused and answered, then con- 
tinued his flight; the second time the call was given, and an- 
swered, but he soon espied his pursuers, and divining the source 
of the cry, answered it no more. Three weeks after, Brady was 
again in this locality, and observing that the ravens were gath- 
ered in one particular spot, found there the body of this Indian. 

Three days after their return the large party sent out first 
came into the fort, reporting that they had followed the Indians 
closely, but that it had been of no use; the savages having es- 
caped by means of their canoes. 

A short time after this adventure, an honest-hearted Dutchman 
named Phouts, seeing Brady apparently absorbed in thought, ap- 
proached him and asked, in his most sympathetic tone : 

" Yas ist der madder, Gabtain ? " 

Brady looked at him a moment without speaking ; then having 
made up his mind as to the qualifications of the man before him, 
replied : 

" I have been thinking of the red-skins, and it is my opinion 
that there are some of them above us on the I'ivcr. I have a mind 
to pay them a visit. Now if I get permission from the General 
to do so, will you go along ? " 

Phouts' eyes flashed with delight. Paising himself on tiptoe 
and bringing his heels suddenly to the ground, he answered: 

" Py dunder, Gabtain, I rader go mit you dan to the vinest 
veddin' in der gountry.'^ 



184 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 

Cautioning Phouts that all must be done in secrecy, Brady 
went to General Broadhead to obtain permission. This was read- 
ily given, but with such affectionate cautions and admonitions on 
the part of the superior officer as to affect both, and Bi-ady left 
the general "with tears in his eyes." 

He lost no time, however, in making the necessary prepara- 
tions, so that, about two hours before daybreak, after having ob- 
tained a little sleep, the men left the fort, and marched that day 
through woods that neither of them had ever traversed before. 
Encamping the first night near a small creek, they found near 
their resting place a lick apparently much frequented by the deer, 
and killed one of these animals. A portion of the flesh served 
for their supper, and a part was "jerked," to form provision for 
them when other could not be conveniently gotten. 

Late in the second da}^, they saw a number of crows hovering 
over the trees at a certain point near the bank of the river. Feel- 
ing sure that there must be an encampment there, but not know- 
ing whether it was of white or red men, Brady decided to use 
caution in approaching it, much to the disgust of Phouts, who 
wanted to go and see. 

" We must secrete ourselves until after night," said the captain, 
"and then we can see by the light of the fires that they will kin- 
dle, whether they are white or red." 

Waiting until about ten o'clock at night, they cautiously ap- 
proached the spot, and found the camp to be that of a party of 
Indians far too numerous for them to attack, although Phouts 
rather insisted upon shooting an old Indian who was sitting by 
the fire making a moccasin. 

Trusting in the judgment of his leader, however, as a child 
trusts in the wisdom of its mother, he allowed the old. Indian to 
stitch away at his moccasin in safety, while, before daybreak, 
the two white men retired a little distance into the woods. They 
had seen but the one savage, although it was a large encampment, 
and finding the trail of a considerable party in the woods, Brady 
concluded that there were no more there ; that the others had 
gone off on some expedition up the Alleghany. Determining to 
take the old Indian prisoner, he communicated his plans to 
Phouts, and the two crept cautiously to the camp again. As they 
could not tell certainly whether there were Indians within hear- 
ing or not, he dared not use his rifle, lest the report should call 
them down upon him. They found the Indian lying upon the 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 185 

ground, his head towards them, and Brady succeeded in getting 
very near him. without even alarming the dog lying beside him 
asleej). Springing suddenly up, he caught the Indian by the 
throat, and lifting his tomhawk, bade him surrender. The old 
warrior quailed before the glance of the white man's eye, and 
yielded to his iron grip. Being told that they were going to take 
him to Pittsburgh, the Indian pointed out to them the place 
where the canoes had been hidden, and supplied with means of 
transportation, they started towards their first encampment, in 
order to secure the jerked venison which they had left there. 
Landing a short distance below, a fire was kindled, and Phouts 
left as a guard upon the old Indian, Mdiile Brady ascended the 
creek to secure the meat. During his absence, the wily savage 
complained to Phouts that the cords which bound his wrists hurt 
him, and the good-hearted, unsuspecting man removed them. The 
Indian professed great gratitude, but, the instant that Phouts 
looked away from him, j^ossessed himself of his gun, and pointed 
it at the Dutchman's breast as he turned: Bewildered by this rap- 
idity of action, which he had not time to comjirehend, Phouts 
jumped aside with a tremendous roar just as the Indian jDulled 
the trigger ; and knowing by instinct that Indians were made to 
be killed, in another instant his tomahawk had cleft the skull of 
the savage. Brady heard the report of the rifle and his compan- 
ion's outcry, and returned in haste. He found Phouts sitting 
astride the body of the Indian, examining his shot-pouch, which 
had been pierced by the ball. 

" See here. Captain," he said, holding it uji; "vas dat tamned 
red rascal has tone." 

Taking the scalp of the Indian, they continued their march, 
and arrived at the fort on the fourth day from their departure. 
Brady described to Gen. Broadhead what he had observed ; adding 
that he thought the Indians whose trail he had seen w^ere on their 
way to attack the settlements on the Susquehanna. This alarm- 
ed the commander, as he had recently made a requisition of men, 
and he feared their being drawn into an ambuscade. 

But the Indians, having discovered by various indications tha 
the whites were aware of their movements, postponed the con- 
templated attack for an indefinite time. In the interval of quiet, 
they met with an unexpected triumph j a large party of warriors, 
one day, captured a single white hunter, and broiight him alive 
into the Indian camj). Small cause for rejoicing, it seems at first 



186 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 

glance j but that one man was, in their eyes at least, the greatest 
of their enemies j a man whose hatred of the savages was equal- 
led only by his daring courage and his skill in detecting all their 
artifices, in tracking them, in crushing them to the earth. No 
wonder that there'were high festivities in the camp to which the 
warriors took their cai)tive, Samuel Brady. His scalp would 
have been worth much to them, but alive, with full capacity for 
suffering any tortures, he was worth much more. It was this 
feeling that nerved the arm of every warrior to give a sharper 
blow, as the feared and hated enemy ran the gauntlet; it was 
this that inspired the squaws and boys to utter more fiendish 
yells as they danced around him, when, stripped and unbound, he 
awaited the completion of their preparations. Yells, threats, 
abuses, curses, saluted his ears as he stood by the fire kindled 
for the torture. Once, his name had been their terror ; the squaw 
of the Long-knife had hushed her frightened children to rest by 
the assurance that Captain Brady and his rangers were on the 
alert, and no danger could befall them; the squaw of the Seneca 
warrior had told her children that Captain Brady would hear 
their voices, and, terrified, they were quieted. But he was in their 
power, now ; he could not harm even that young squaw, who car- 
ried in her arms her pappoose, the child of a great chief. Nearer 
and nearer came the throng circling around him, as their sense 
of his helplessness increased; nearer and nearer, with the rest, 
came that squaw of the chief, bearing her child in her arms. 
Quick as thought, he snatched the infant from her, and threw it 
towards the fire. Horrified at this action, the Indians, with one 
accord, rushed to rescue the child, and Brady, sjiringing past 
them, gained the adjacent thicket. Eccalled in an instant to the 
necessity of securing him, they pursued him in hot haste. Scores 
of bullets whistled about his ears, but untouched he made his way 
to the deep ravines and laurel thickets where a regiment might 
be concealed. Guided by the unerring instinct of the woodsman, 
and thoroughly acquainted with the country, he reached Fort 
Mcintosh in safety. 

Brady's daring could give place, when necessary, to caution; 
a combination of qualities especially valuable, and indeed essen- 
tial, to an Indian fighter. At one time, as he was returning, with 
a considerable oody of rangers, from a scouting expedition, a 
solitary Indian stepped out of the thicket, fired upon them, and 
instantly retreated to a deep ravine. Suspecting that he could 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 



187 



not be alone in a place so well fitted for an ambuscade, Brady- 
ordered bis men to tree. Hardly was tbis accomplisbed wben 
tbe enemy, despairing of the success of tbeir original j^lan, is 
sued from tbeir place of concealment, and opened fire upon tbem. 
Tbis was returned witb fatal effect upon tbe Indians, but so great 
was tbe number of tbe savages tbat Brady ordered a retreat 
to tbe top of tbe bill. From tbis point it was continued until 
tbe Indians, baving lost about twenty men, ceased to pursue. 
One of Brady's men was killed, and two wounded. 







THE COUXCIL ON A TREE. 

" Brady's Hill " is tbe name applied to a small eminence near 
Beaver, Pennsylvania, to commemorate an incident in our bero's 
life. From tbe town mentioned, more familiar to tbese pages as 
Fort Mclntosb, the gallant scout set forth, witb a few men, 
toward tbe Sandusky villages. Eeturning, tbey were pursued, 
and all killed but tbe leader, who was forced to beat a flying 
retreat. Reaching tbe bill now called by bis name, tbe sight of 
a large tree, recently prostrated by a storm, suggested a plan to 
him. Once before sucb a tree bad given bim shelter in tbe pit 
left by tbe roots, but in tbis case tbe position of tbe tree was re- 
versed. So lately bad it been torn up, bowever, tbat its leafy 
crown was still intact. Walking up to tbe tree, be walked bank- 



188 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 

ward in his own footprints for a space of a few hundred yards, 
then forward again to the trunk in the same tracks. This was to 
make the trail unmistakable. Hiding himself in the thick, leafy 
branches, he awaited the result; three Indians soon appeared, 
carefully following the trail ; coming to the tree, it suddenly 
failed ; they were at a loss to think what this could mean, and 
sat down on the trunk of the fallen monarch of the forest to hold 
a hasty consultation. It was indeed a short one, for hardly had 
they settled into place when out of the green leaves flashed fire, 
and at the sharp crack of Brady's rifle they all fell forward, one 
dead and two wounded. Clubbing his gun, he leaped toward the 
Indians, and soon, with the three scalps at his belt, he was again 
in the fort. 

If Brady's Hill be the scene of a memorable encounter, Bra- 
dy's Eun has also a history; the purj)ort may be guessed from 
the fact that it issues from Bloody Spring. At the head of this 
stream a war-party of Indians had encamped. They had taken 
no scalps, but more than one house had been laid in ruins, and 
the presence of two helpless white women and a number of little 
children at their camp-flre attested the prowess of these so-called 
braves. By the dying fire the captors and cajjtivcs lie asleep; 
all is still. Suddenly a branch snaps, and awakened by the slight 
noise, one dusky warrior rouses himself, and looks around in the 
direction whence it came. Only the faint chirp of a distant wood- 
cricket is heard, and he sinks again into slumber. But first he 
has stirred the dying embers of the fire, and the flames, leaping 
up to embrace the log thrown upon them, light up the shadowy 
camp. The shadows appear and disappear, as the flames rise and 
sink ; but four dark forms are there always, creeping silently 
towards the unconscious Indians. Now the gleam of the fire- 
light falls upon the polished surface of four scaljiing knives, each 
held between the teeth of a shadow, wdiile his right hand clutches 
a tomahawk. A low cluck as they reach their victims, and as 
one the four tomahawks descend crushing through the skulls 
of four sleeping Indians. In an instant the camp is in the wildest 
confusion. The savages awake from their slumbers only to find 
that Brady is among them; Brady, whose whole life is devoted 
to the extermination of their race. But they have hardly real- 
ized their danger before danger is forever past for them. One 
after the other every Indian falls, and their captives are led 
back in safety to their friends. The waters of the spring have 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 189 

long since regained their usual purity, but still it bears the name 
of such ill omen to the children of the forest. 

Such were the deeds that made the name of Captain Brady a 
terror to the Indians of that section, inspiring them with a whole- 
some awe. Their respect for his name was shown by the result 
of one of his solitary expeditions, undertaken solely to bring in 
prisoners. Secreting himself near one of the Indian towns, he 
marked out for his purpose a certain cabin, containing, as he 
knew, a warrior, a squaw, a boy and girl and a pappoose. Break- 
ing open the door at night, he told them who he was, and that 
they must go with him ; assuring them of life if they went peace- 
ably, of death if they made any outcry. So great was their fear 
of his name that they obeyed his commands unhesitatingly as he 
drove them before him like a herd of cattle. He had expected 
to be hotly pursued, and was not disappointed; but selecting his 
resting places so that they could be reached only by wading up or 
down stream, and traveling only by night, he reached his desti- 
nation in safety with his whole party of prisoners. 

In the region where so many places commemorate, by their 
names, his daring deeds, tradition preserves his fame, and from 
father to son the stories are handed down. But many such ac- 
counts have slept in the memories of men, and have perhajDs 
passed away with that elder generation to which the name of 
Brady was a household word. Upon some, or at least one, of the 
more marvelous tales-, our modern wiseacres, finding no record 
save the uncertain one of man's memory, have sought to throw 
discredit. The fact that the point where the Cuyahoga rushes 
through a narrow fissure in the rocks, its current contracted to a 
width of less than thirty feet, still bears the name of Brady's 
Leap, is to them worth nothing. But Brady's own lips had told 
the tale, and those who had heard it from him were not inclined 
to disbelieve it. 

With a party of twenty followers, he had set out on a scouting 
expedition to the neighborhood of Sandusky, but was waylaid 
by a large force of Indians at a small lake, now called by his 
name, in what is now Portage County, Ohio. From the sharp 
engagement that followed, only two white men escaped with 
their lives, Brady being one. Such was his first acquaintance 
with this lake, the story being proven by the excavations made 
on the southern shore by his friends, who found there a number 
of skulls and a sword — the relics of the fight. 



190 



Captain samuel brady. 



His famous leap across the Cujahoga was made, according to 
some authorities, a short time after this; according to others, 
when he escaped from the Indians by tlirowing tlie child toward 
the fire. It was j^robably after the date of most of his adven- 
tures, as will be evident when we come to consider the result. 

Hotly pursued from Sandusky, a distance of about a hundred 
miles, he found on reaching the Cuyahoga, that his enemies hem- 
med him in. To go backward was impossible — and how could 




BRADY S LEAP. 



one man bridge thatchasm, more than twenty-five feet wide? But 
there is no other way of escape from the yelling fiends, and sum- 
moning all his courage, with one mighty leap he bounds over the 
yawning gulf. Convulsively his hands clutch at the bushes 
growing on the bluif he had gained; but they give way; down, 
down, he slips almost his own height; but the iron nerves do not 
fail him, the sinewy hands grasp still other supports, and he con- 
tinues his flight. The savages stand on the other bank, for a 
a moment, motionless Avith astonishment; quickly recovering 
themselves, three or four fire at him, hitting him in the leg. 

Notwithstanding his wound, Brady continued to run. The 
Indians left the steep cliff, and crossed the river at the Standing 
Stone, where the more gently sloping banks enabled them to ap- 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 191 

proach the water. Finding them still in hot pursuit, Brady bent 
his way towards the lake now bearing his name, and plunged 
into its waters. The savages were gaining rapidly on him, and 
his wound so impeded his flight that he knew concealment was 
necessary. Striking out, then, towards a part of the lake that was 
covered with the broad leaves and white blossoms of the water- 
lily, the hollow, flexible stems of these attracted his attention, 
and he found, by experimenting, that he could breathe through 
one of these, and thus keep his head under water. 

The Indians followed his bloody trail to the water's edge, and 
finding it end there, were at a loss. Examining carefully the 
shores of the lake, they concluded that he had not emerged j that, 
exhausted by his wound, he had been accidentally drowned, or 
had preferred that death to a bloodier one at the hands of his 
enemies. All the remainder of the day, and part of the night 
they spent in searching for him, dead or alive, but finally gave 
it up, and returned to make a more careful survey of the spot 
where he had cleared the river at a bound. As soon as he felt it 
safe to do so, Brady left the water, and succeeded in making his 
escape to the settlement. 

Eeturning to the river, the Indians carefully inspected the 
spot, measuring by their eye the distance as accurately as they 
could; and arrived at a very singular conviction: none of them, 
they felt assured, could leap it ; since it was impossible to them, 
it would be ridiculous to suppose a white man could do it; the 
evidence of their eyes, of course, could not be .disregarded, but 
they reconciled the fact and its impossibility by the sage conclu- 
sion : '' He no man, he no jump across the river; heA\ild-turkey, 
he fly." 

And so convinced were they of this, that they carved upon the 
rock to which he had leaped, the rude representation of a wild- 
turkey's foot. This token of an exhibition of physical power 
beyond the belief of even eye-witnesses remained there until the 
summer of 1856, when, as the rock was to be quarried, Judge 
Moses Hampton, of Pittsburgh, obtained permission to cut it out. 
The distance has been several times measured, the measurements 
varying from twenty-five to twenty-seven and a half feet, the 
steep cliff's on either side rising to a height of some thirty feet 
above the surface of the water. 

The events of Brady's private life are almost unknown to 
us. He was married, probably in 1786, to Miss Drusilla Yan 



192 CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 

Swearingen, the daughter of an officer in Gren. Morgan's Rlft»d 
Corps. Whether this marriage was the result of the similar opin- 
ions on the Indian question which were entertained by Captains 
Van Swearingen and Brady, we cannot tell ; certainly the elder 
officer was nicknamed ''Indian Van." Mrs. Erady had been edu- 
cated in the east, and was notedfor her beauty, accomplishments, 
and amiable disposition. She had need of much fortitude to en- 
dure the anxiety which her husband's frequent absence, among 
dangers which could not be exaggerated, must have caused her. 

Brady was at one time brought to trial for killing, in time of 
peace, a party of Indians, but succeeded in proving that this was 
but punishment due them, as they had made a raid upon the set- 
tlements on the frontier. So quickly had the punishment come, 
that the offence had hardly been heard of before Brady was tri- 
umphantly acquitted, not only by the jury, but by public opinion. 
One witness for the defense was Guyasutha, the Mingo chief, who 
swore to everything that he thought would be in Brady's favor, 
whether it were true ol" not ; and defended himself afterwards by 
urging his friendship for the captain. 

The wound received after leaj)ing the river rendered Brady 
lame for life ; and he attributed to his lying so long under water 
in the lake, the deafness which afterward afflicted him. Although 
comparatively a young man when he died, he had the appearance 
of being much older than he really was. The date of his death 
is uncertain, being probably about the year 1800. The last j^ears 
of his life were spent in "West Liberty, "West Virginia, and here 
he died, his wife and two sons surviving him. Knowing not the 
date of his birth or of his death, we have only the memory of the 
" deeds of derring do/' left to us. 



CHAPTER VII. 



COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

A COMPETENT authority says that at least thirty places in 
the United States bear the name of Daniel Boone, the best 
known pioneer, perhaps, of the country; certain it is that eight 
states contain counties thus designated — monuments of love and 
admiration for a man upon whose like we shall not look again. 

Boi*n in Western Virginia or Pennsylvania, in 1735, his earliest 
years were spent in the unsettled forests. His father removed to 
the banks of the Eadkin Eiver, in North Carolina, when he was 
but a boy. He had already acquired something of that skill with 
the rifle, so necessary to the frontiersman, and for which he be- 
came so eminent. When a very young man, he saw a pair of large, 
soft eyes gleaming in a thicket; the ready gitn was leveled and 
fired, but the deer bounded aside; with quick foot the young 
hunter followed his game through the wood, and at last came to 
a clearing, in the midst of which stood a settler's cabin; in this 
he sought shelter for the night, and it was not.refused him ; to 
do the honors to the young stranger, the members of the family 
hushed the excitement which had prevailed among them ; but 
they had not acquired the power of entirely coi^cealiiig their feel- 
ings, and he soon learned that, as the daughter of the house and 
her little brother were returning through the woods from a neigh- 
bor's, some one, Indian or white man they could not tell, had fired 
at them, and chased them almost to the very door. 

Boone listened to the recital, and for once was glad that he had 
missed his aim. But though unsuccessful as a hunter in bringing 
doAvn his game, better luck attended his efforts as a lover, and a 
long and happy life followed the marriage which took place soon 
afterward, between him and the owner of the soft eyes that had 
deceived him. 

But sparsely settled as it was, the state, in a few years, became 
too populous for the exercise of a hunter's vocation, and Boone 



194 



COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 



determined to remove to a wilder country. In the early part of 
May, 1769, he, in comj)any with John Stewart and four other 
men, left his home in North Carolina and journeyed towards the 
" Dark and Bloody Ground," west of Yirginia, and lying between 
the homes of the northwestern and the southern tribes of Indians. 

This country, long before 
known to the savages as 
Kantuckee, was regarded 
by them as neutral ground, 
not to be used as a habita- 
tion by those of either 
section. As a natural con- 
sequence of this, it became 
the wandering place of 
vast herds of buffalo and 
deer, the wild duck linger- 
ed in its streams, the wild 
turkeys dwelt on its hills, 
and the forests were full 
loflife. A paradise for the 
sportsman, truly ; and the 
wild hunters of the sur- 
rounding tribes had long 
ago discovered this. This 
was the destination of 
many of their great hunt- 
ing parties, and here, 
when ITorth and South 
met upon this common ter- 
ritory, many a bloody 
conflict justified the name 
they had given to it. To 
nANiEL BOONE, tlic wild men of the woods 

the possession of a hunting ground meant subsistence; the pres- 
ence of the white man, destruction. Their ftithers had been driv- 
en toward the sunset far enough ; here they would sta}^ ; and arm- 
ing themselves with all the grim determination that an Indian 
could summon, they fought the white men who invaded their 
land. 

The six men who left the banks of the Eadkin Eiver in the 
Spring of 1769, were determined to establish themselves in the 




COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 



195 



western paradise; and although not forgetful of the danger that 
awaited them, they pushed defiantly forward. Early in June 
they reached the Red River, and there encamped, living on the 
game which they killed, and the fruits which abounded in the un- 
cultivated regions, better fare than French cook ever prepared,, 
for hungry borderers. Of the adventures of nearly seven month? 
we know nothing; the triumjDhs of the hunter, and the pioneer'? 
escape from danger are forgotten ; absolutely no chronicle of thi& 




CAPTURE OP BOONE AND STEWART. 

time remains to us. Bee. 22nd of the same year is a more mem 

orable date, for then, to use the old hunter's own words: " Joh» 

Stewart and I had a pleasing ramble, but fortune changed th«" 

scene." 
13 



196 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

It was nearly the evening of tlie short December day, when, as 
the two hunters ascended a slight eminence overlooking the Ken- 
tucky river, a party of Indians rushed from a neighboring cane- 
brake, surrounded and captured them. For seven days they were 
prisoners, uncertain what fate awaited them. Had there been 
nothing else, the natural enmity of the two races might have 
decided the fate of the captives adversely; but the cool and 
manly bearing of Boone doubtless impressed the savage who so 
much desired those qualities for himself. At any rate, the entire 
absence of resistance lulled the captors into a false security, and 
they slept, leaving the jjrisoners unbound. Rising from his place 
so lightly as not to disturb the Indians about him, Boone sought 
out his companion, silently aroused him, and together they fled. 
Imagine, if you can, the dismay which was in that circle of war- 
riors the next morning ! Whether the captives' fate was to have 
been torture or adoption (the usual alternatives) the disappoint- 
ment was equally great; they had been robbed of enjoyment, or 
their friendship had been rejected. 

Arriving at the camp where, a Aveek before, they had left their 
four companions, they found it desj^oilcd of all the implements of 
pioneer life, and no trace of their friends. These, probably ter- 
rified by the mishap of Boone and Stewart, had departed from 
the dangers of that country forever. The others, however, were 
of sterner stuff; if danger dwelt in the wilderness, there was hap- 
piness, too, and they had no notion of missing the one by shun- 
ning the other. 

Before long, however, there came new companions. Wander- 
ing throagh the forest, in search of Boone, came his brother 
Squire and another adventurer. The veriest stranger would have 
been welcomed by the lonely hunters, and we may conjecture the 
reception that awaited Squire Boone. But the little band of 
hunters were soon to be reduced to the same number as before, 
for Stewart was killed by the Indians late in the winter or earlj^ 
in the spring, and the man who had accompanied Squire Boone 
returned home. 

The two brothers were now left alone in the wilderness. What- 
ever dangers may have beset them, they escaped ; and building 
a cottage to defend themselves from the storms of winter, for sev- 
eral months they lived sufiicient for each other. Whether the 
modesty which characterizes true courage prevents Boone from 
telling us the perils of this year, or whether his self-reliance, his 



COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 197 

coolness, his forethought, united to his bravery and his excel- 
lence in woodcraft inspired the savages with such respect that 
they let the brothers live in peace, we cannot tell; but he speaks 
of their enjoj^ment of this life. 

The first of May, 1770, Squire Boone set off to the settlements, 
in order to obtain horses and ammunition, Daniel being left at 
the camp, without bread, salt or sugar. More than the lack of 
these articles of food was the entire absence of companionship ; 
not a horse or a dog cheered his solitude, and yet the unlettered 
woodsman found pleasure in the vast wilderness. Eoaming away 
from the lonely cabin, he spent days and nights in the trackless 
forest, returning to find that the foe had come in his absence. 
Often he lay throughout the night in thick canebrakes, in order 
that he might not be present to receive such visits ; and here the 
prowling wolves made night hideous, so that he dared not sleep 
too soundly. But though he so fully appreciated the dangers by 
which he was surrounded, and so carefully guarded himself from 
them, it ended there ; fear had no part in his nature, and he was 
fully able to appreciate the " beauty in the pathless woods," for 
no abject terror of the denizens of the forest disturbed the calm 
balance of his mind. 

Towards the end of July his brother returned, and' not think- 
ing it safe to remain in that place any longer, they shifted their 
quarters to the banks of the Cumberland Eiver, whence in March, 
1771, he returned home in order to bring his family to the wild 
home he had chosen. 

Much time, however, was consumed in the necessary prepara- 
tions ; but at last the farm was sold, horses and supplies pur- 
chased, and in September, 1773, they left the old home for the 
new. At Powell's Valley, they were joined by five other families, 
and a company of forty able-bodied men, the whole party being 
well equipped with provisions and ammunition. In high spirits 
they journeyed onward, meeting with no accident or alarm until 
October 6, nearly two weeks from the time that the Boone familj^ 
left home. On this day, as they were approaching Cumberland 
Gap, a pass in the mountains, the young men who were driving the 
cattle, and who had fallen five or six miles in the rear of the main 
body, were suddenly attacked by the Indians. Six of their num- 
ber were slain, one beingthe eldest son of Daniel Boone ; asevcnth 
escaped with a Avound ; the cattle were all dispersed in the woods. 
The reports of the rifles recalled the main body of pioneers, but 



198 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

it was too late; the savages had vanished before they could come 
up ; there was nothing to do but bury the dead. 

Disheartened by this sad experience, many of the men, in the 
council held immediately after, urged a return to the settlements. 
Despite his own sad loss, however, Boone strenuously opposed 
this, and was earnestly supported by his brother ; but even their 
united persuasions were of no avail ; and yielding to the argu- 
ments of the majority, they returned with the whole party to the 
settlement on the Clinch River, in the southwestern part of Vir- 
ginia, and forty miles from the scene of the disaster. 

Boone always regarded himself as an instrument in the hands 
of Providence to effect the settlement of Kentucky; but the tim- 
idity of his companions at this point in his life averted a great 
danger. If the advice of the two brothers had prevailed, there 
would have been left not one to tell the story of an Indian mas- 
sacre. It was in consequence of the murder of the family of 
Logan, the eloquent Indian chief whose own words tell his mis- 
fortunes better than any others could, that the terrible Dunmore 
War broke out early in the year 1774. 

It was after the beginning of this war, but before it had attain- 
ed its height, that Gov. Dunmore of Virginia solicited Boone and 
a companion woodsman to go to the falls of the Ohio and con- 
duct thence a party of engineers, whom he had sent there some 
months before. This task was performed with safety and des- 
patch, a round trip of eight hundred miles being accomplished 
in sixty -two days. 

After his return, the war being now at its height, Boone was 
given the command of three contiguous garrisons on the frontier. 
After this fight, in which about fifteen hundred warriors of the 
Shawneos, Delawares, Mingos, Wyandots and Cayugas were de- 
feated by the whites, these tribes sued for peace, relinquishing 
all title to Kentucky. The Six Nations, by treaty, and the Cher- 
okees, by sale, had dispossessed themselves previously to this 
time ; so that when Boone took his family and household gods 
into Kentucky, it was into a region abandoned by its native lords 
to the white men. 

Boone had been present at the making of the treaty by which 
the Cherokees sold their lands, being sent to represent the pur- 
chasers, a company of adventurous speculators of which a per- 
sonal friend, Col. Richard Henderson, was the moving spirit. In- 
deed, it was in consequence of the hardy pioneer's glowing ac- 



COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 199 

count of Kentucky, its rich plains and game-abounding forests, 
that many such companies had been formed in Virginia and 
North Carolina, for the purpose of colonization. 

A small company of brave and hardy men was soon collected, 
and sent, under the leadership of Boone, to oj)en a road from the 
Ilolston to the Kentucky Eiver, and to build a fort where Otler 
Creek empties itself into the latter. The Indian has not the pa- 
tient, far-seeing courage which a siege demands ; his victory must 
be won by a single wild onslaught from his ambush in the forest, 
upon those who have no defense but their right hands, weaken- 
ed by the surprise of unexpected attack. Hewn logs are bullet 
proof, and hence a sufficient defense. As the fort built at Boones- 
borough was similar to those soon scattered all over the coun- 
tr}^, a description of that will be sufficient for all. 

Oblong in shape, the sides were composed of cabins, separated 
by stockades; the walls of these buildings were about ten or 
twelve feet high on the outer side, sloping downward as they 
neared the inner opening. At each of the four corners was a 
building two stories in height, and projecting some two feet each 
way farther than the cabins described ;• the second story extend- 
ing a foot and half or two feet beyond the walls of the ground 
floor. These corner buildings, larger and stronger than the others, 
and called block-houses, were by their construction enabled to 
command the whole outer wall of the fort, and even if the sav- 
ages had forced their way into the enclosure, the garrison could 
for some time defend themselves in one of the block-houses. Two 
large folding gates, on opposite sides of the fort, and made of 
thick wooden slabs, provided means of entering and leaving the 
fort. Of course the enclosures varied in size, and in some cases, 
only one or two block-houses were built; the fort at Boones- 
borough has been estimated to have covered a space of one hun- 
dred and fifty by two hundred and sixty feet. Eude as they were, 
these log cabins, with puncheon, or pcrhaj)s earthen floors, built 
without nails, or any iron whatever, they must yet have seemed 
heaven to the terrified settler who, hearing the dread tidings of 
massacre so common then, fled from his little clearing in the 
woods, where a cabin of the same kind, but solitary and insecure, 
was his home. And on the 14th of June, 1774, after a journey 
during which five of their number had been killed by the Indians, 
and after laboring more than two months, they saw the fort at 
Boonesborough completed. 



200 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

In September or October of the same year, the last tie which 
bound Daniel Boone to any other than his chosen dwelling place 
in the wilderness was broken; for then he led his family and a 
few followers once more towards that which his daring and skill 
had made a home. Joined in Powell's Valley by new recruits, 
the little company consisted of twenty-six men, four women, and 
four or five boys and girls. At the head of Dick's Eiver, some 
few of these had separated themselves from the rest in order to 
join the settlers at Harrodsburg, in the interior of the state; so 
that it was less than thirty, perhaps barely twenty persons, who 
pushed on towards Boonesborough ; " my wife and daughter," as 
the old man afterwards recorded with some pride, " being the 
first white women that ever stood on the banks of the Kentucky 
River." 

In spite of the fact that the British officers endeavored in every 
way to excite the animosity of the Indians towards all settlers 
in this region, and even furnished the savages with arms and am- 
munition, the little colony at Boonesborough remained for some 
time undisturbed. This was doubtless due in part to Gen. George 
Roo-ers Clarke, whom the Virginia Legislature sent with a force 
to protect the western settlements, and who, rejecting the belt 
which the treacherous savages offered as a token of peace, did 
good service in the defense of the colonists ; but much of the se- 
curity must be explained by the character of the pioneers them- 
selves. The winter and spring of 1776 were passed by the set- 
tlers in hunting, fishing, clearing and planting. Suddenly, one 
day in the winter, as they were engaged in their usual work, a 
small band of marauding Indians appeared, and in the skirmish 
that ensued, one of the whites was killed. Then the red men de- 
parted as suddenly as they had come, and the settlers were un- 
molested during the next half year. 

■ It was on the fourteenth of July of the same year, that three 
young girls, Miss Betsey Callaway, her sister Prances, and Dan- 
iel Boone's daughter Jemima, were in a canoe on the Kentucky 
River, within sight of Boonesborough. Raised in the frontier 
district of North Carolina and Virginia, and accustomed for near- 
ly two years to the pioneer life of the Kentucky fort, they had 
no fear of the boundless forest or the rushing river. The pre- 
sence of danger was a thing unheeded, because so intimately 
known. But even a braver heart, if such ever beat in a woman's 
breast, would have quailed at the sight of a swarthy form mov- 



202 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

ing through the water, the slight boat in which they were follow- 
ing as surely as though drawn by some demoniac enchantment. 
The terrified girls clung to each other, not knowing what was to 
befall them. Steadily the canoe moved to the other side of the 
river, and now, in the stream and the forest, appeared other dark 
faces, gleaming with triumph. Within the fort, all seemed for a 
moment confusion, but a calm intelligence brought order out of 
chaos, and despite the fact that their canoe had been left on the 
other side of the river, a party under the leadership of Captain 
Boone was soon on the track of the savages. 

Care, as well as swiftness, was necessary ; excite his wrath by 
too merciless a pursuit, and the tomahawk, raised against those 
three defenceless heads, would make a failure of success. More 
than thirty miles the track was folloAved, through the densest 
cane brakes and on the path of the buffalo; nearly fifty miles 
from the fort, the pursuers overtook them just as they were kin- 
dling a fire to cook. The watchfulness of the Indians was not 
less than the carefulness of the pioneers, for each saw the other 
at about the same time. A short, sharp report, of four rifles at 
once J the red men fly ; two more rifle shots, and two of the In- 
dians fall, one slain by Boone, and one by Col. Ployd ; the others 
escape, but without a moccasin, knife or tomahawk, with only 
one shot-gun, and no ammunition, losing of course their captives. 

This was the only exciting event of the year to the colony. 
Prom time to time a new member was added to their society, and 
everything progressed quietly. Heart-rending as the anxiety of 
the parents must have been when the three girls were captured, 
the alarm thus given j)revented, perhaps, a greater disaster. 

Even on the day of the capture, some other parties had at- 
tacked several stations ; and the settlers living out of the forts 
were harassed ; many men were killed, and most of the cattle 
were destroyed. So general and great was the alarm, that about 
three hundred speculators and adventurers returned to their old 
homes east of the mountains. 

By April of the succeeding year, however, Boonesborough 
could no longer claim to be exempt from the sieges that other 
forts had suffered. A hundred Indians gathered about the fort, 
and advanced to attack it with all the horrid din which incites 
them to conflict. But the same cool intelligence which had de- 
feated them before, was against them now. The sharp crack of 
the rifle, aimed by the unerring marksmen within, was but little 



COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 



203 



to their taste, brave warriors as they were, and they soon with- 
drew, carrying with them their dead and wounded. The settlers 
suffered slightly, one man being killed and four wounded. 

But though the Ijidians had raised the siege so soon at this 
April attack, they were not to remain away long. On the 4th of 
July, their number being doubled, they returned. Detachments 
were sent to alarm and annoy the neighboring settlements, and 
thus prevent reinforcements being sent to Boonesborough. For 
two days the attack 



was vigorous. The 
twenty-two men 
within the fort saw 
with anxious hearts 
the two hundred "red 
devils" surrounding 
them. With patient 1^ 
courage they await 
ed the result ; drop- 1| 
ped a soldier's tear 
over the one man 
that was killed dur- 
ing this time; tended 
their two wounded 
comrades; told each ^^^^ 
other with grim *^^^^M 
pleasure that an- yf 
other Indian had 
fallen, until the num- 
ber seven had been 
reached ; then, sud- 
denly", with great 
clamor, the Indians 
raised the siege, and 
departed. 

The neighboring settlements, Logan's Fort and Harrodsburg, 
suffered more severely than Boonesborough ; but considerable 
reinforcements strengthened the several garrisons, forty-fivo men 
reaching Boonesborough in the latter part of July, and a hun- 
dred more about a month later. This increased strength resulted 
in greater boldness on the part of the settlers, so that for about six 
weeks there were almost daily skirmishes with the Indians. 




*^»^S 



INDIANS ATTACKING BOONESBOROUGH. 



204 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

Notwithstanding this warlike state of affairs, the men pursued 
their work of tilling the land as tisual ; some, of course, acting 
as sentinels. At hunting, a still more dangerous occupation, but 
equally necessary, as supplying them with meat, they took turns. 

The procuring a subsistence was thus at all times a dangerous 
work. Such was the case in January, 1778, when a party of 
thirt}^, headed by Boone, went to the Blue Licks to make salt for 
ihe different stations. On the seventh of February, while out 
hunting in order to procure meat for this party, he fell in with a 
party of a hundred and two Indian warriors, on the march toward 
Boonesborough. More than fifty years old, he could not outstrip 
the fleet-footed young pursuers, and for the second time was 
captured. "What at first sight appears a totally unnecessary step 
was now taken; Boone surrendered his entire pai"ty, numbering 
twenty-seven men ; the Indians promising safety and good treat- 
ment. He foresaw the result from the first, however; the In- 
dians were diverted from their purpose by the unexpected good 
fortune, and returned home with their prisoners and booty. For 
this surrender Boone has been much censured, and at a later 
period was court-martialed ; but was honorably acquitted, the 
judges deciding that his course had undoubtedlysaved Boones- 
borough from attack. 

The ShaAvnees returned to their principal town, Old Chillicothe, 
on the Little Miami ; the prisoners sharing the few comforts and 
the many privations of their captors, during a three days' march 
in wet, cold weather. After a stay of nearly a month, the leader 
and ten of his men were taken to Detroit, then held by the Brit- 
ish, who, as before stated, wei-e the chief agents in exciting the 
Indians against the Americans. The ten subalterns were present- 
ed to the commandant, who was very anxious to get possession 
of Boone, in order to liberate him on parole; but persuasions 
were of no avail. Even a ransom of a hundred pounds did not 
tempt them; they had formed a particular attachment, and were 
by no means disposed to part with the object of it. This affection, 
perhaps, was not returned by the man whom it kept from home 
and family, but resistance would only infuriate the savages, whose 
suspicions ho must allay if he hoped ever to escape from them. 
Go back to Chillicothe he must, and the fifteen days' march 
was accomplished with submissive cheerfulness. 

An Indian family now adopted Boone, Avith the usual formal- 
ities, which, to quote one of his biographers, "were often severe 



COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 



205 



and ludicrous. The hair of the head is plucked out by a painful 
and tedious operation, leaving a tuft, three or four inches in di- 
ameter, on the crown, for the sc9,lp-lock, which is cut and dressed 
up with ribbons and feathers." After copious ablutions in the 
river, " to wash the white blood out of him," he listens in the 
council house to a speech from the chief who expatiates upon the 




BOONE'S INDIAN TOILET. 

honors conferred on him. His head and face having been paint- 
ed in accordance with the latest and most pojiular style, a grand 
feast concluded the ceremony. 

The prisoner bent every endeavor to pleasing his captors : often 
accompanying them on hunting parties, they could not sufficient- 
ly admire his skill ; this was less admirable, however, than in 
the frequent shooting matches ; in these, they could not conceal 
their joy when they excelled him, or their envy when his success 



206 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

was better than theirs. Of course he was not slow to learn this, 
and to act on the knowledge, so that they were seldom disj^leased 
at their adopted son's excellence with the rifle. His j)hysical 
comfort was carefully attended to, but his mental state must have 
been far from enviable, for added to the anxiety about his wife 
and children was the fear that the station would be less safe 
and prosperous than if it had his personal care. So closely was 
he watched, however, that escape seemed impossible. 

Having accompanied a party to the Scioto Licks to make salt, 
upon his return he found a war party of four hundred and fifty 
warriors at Chillicothe, preparing for a descent uj)on Boones- 
borough. Everything must be risked now that he might escape. 
Eising at the usual hunting hour the next morning, and jDrovid- 
ing himself with one meal's victuals, he started out upon a hunt- 
ing expedition for the day. So completely had he disarmed sus- 
picion that no objection was raised, or even thought of. Pro- 
ceeding in the usual direction until far out of sight, he suddenly 
turned towards Boonesborough, a hundred and sixty miles away. 
Thither he w^ent at his utmost speed, stopping for nothing during 
the five days required for the journey. The little food taken 
from the Indian camp was all the material sustenance he had until 
he reached the fort. 

As he feared, he found the garrison careless, the defenses poor- 
ly kept up. By precept and examjile he encouraged his men, 
and things were soon in good condition to receive the enemy. 
But while they were hourly expecting the Indians, one of Boone's 
comj)anions in captivity, having gotten away, reached the fort 
with the intelligence that the escape of the pioneer leader had so 
powerfully affected his captors that they had postponed their 
meditated attack for three weeks. Indian spies filled the coun- 
try, and the whole atmosphere seemed to be full of alarm. The 
red men evidently saw that unless the whites were utterly exter- 
minated, they themselves were doomed. It was in self-defense 
that the blow was to be struck, and to make it of any use it must 
be deadly. 

This was the Indian reasoning, and with it the whites were 
perfectly familiar. Every mind was strung to the highest pitch 
for the approaching contest, every eye and ear was on the alert. 
Such a state of things cannot long continue ; thcs tense bow-string 
must relax; after a little while the settlers were less vigilant. 
Observing this, and wishing to prevent its sjjread, Boone organ- 



COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 207 

ized a party of nineteen of his brave companions, intending to 
attack one of the Indian towns on the Scioto. Cautiously ad- 
vancing to within four or five miles of the town which he wished 
to surprise, he met its thirty warriors, on their way to join the 
main Indian force, then marching toward Boonesborough. In the 
"smart fight" which followed, the white^i lost no men; the In- 
dians a few, retreating very soon, and leaving their horses and 
baggage to the victors. Spies despatched to their town returned 
with the information that it was evacuated. The storm was gath- 
ering thick and fast about the settlements, and there was no time 
to be lost. Back to Boonesborough the little party went with all 
speed, passing the forces of the enemy the sixth da}^, and arriv- 
ing there the seventh day after the skirmish above described. 
On the succeeding day the enemy appeared in even more terri- 
ble guise than they had anticipated. Nearly five hundred war- 
riors, horrid in war j^aint, and decked with the ghastly trophies 
of their past victories, advanced towards the fort, like vultures 
approaching the doomed and innocent flock. But the wild war- 
riors of the woods had before this besieged Boonesborough in 
equal multitude, and had retreated from their undertaking be- 
fore the sharp crack of those unerring rifles. Yonder painted 
host, moving through the forest shadows as if in some demoniac 
dance, led by the most distinguished chiefs of their own race, was 
most formidable because of the Canadian Frenchmen by whom it 
was commanded. It was the voice of Captain Duquesne that sum- 
moned the garrison to " surrender in the name of his Britannic 
Majesty," and to him and eleven of his countrymen must the 
answer be made. 

Within the fort, a council of all the fighting men was hastily 
summoned — fifty in all ! More than one knew what were the hor- 
rors of captivity among the savages — hard work and ill usage, 
entire subjection to the whims of a hundred masters. Such would 
be the result of surrender. On the other hand, there were nearly 
ten besiegers to every one of their own number, and if the fort 
were taken by storm, death by the most fearful tortures would 
be certain to follow. This was the alternative. With grave faces 
and anxious hearts they weighed the question, and every man 
returned the answer that they " would defend the fort as long as 
a man of them lived." 

Although they thus decided, they did not yet make known 
their resolution. A delay of two days was granted them for con- 



208 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

sideration, but was used for preparation. Horses and cattle were 
collected in the fort from the surrounding fields, and everything 
made ready for a determined resistance. On the evening of the 
ninth of August (1778) Boone announced to Captain Duquesne 
the determination to defend the fort. " N'ow/' he said, "we 
laugh at your formidable preparations ; but thank you for giv- 
ing lis notice and time to prepare for our defense. Your efforts 
will not prevail ; for our gates shall forever deny you admit- 
tance." Such a reply was wholly unexpected, and considerably 
disappointed the enemy. Their leader, however, quickly recov- 
ered himself, and offering new terms, requested that nine of the 
principal men should leave the fort, to treat with them. Al- 
though they could talk perfectly well in their positions at that 
time, the wary pioneers allowed themselves to trust an enemy 
whose wiliness they knew. Boone and eight of his companions 
left the fort to treat with the foe, and so earnest were the asser- 
tions of Duquesne, that they had orders to take the Kentuckians 
prisoners, and not to kill them, that the settlers almost believed 
them. A treaty was made, and signed ; what were the contents 
cannot now be ascertained, nor need it cause us any regret j no 
wisdom has been lost to us. Determined as the Indians were to 
drive the whites from their favorite hunting grounds, they would 
not propose, in earnest, anything to which the settlers would 
agree. But promises are easily made by those who have no in- 
tention of keeping them, and who cannot be compelled to do so. 

" It is a singular custom among the Indians, of whom I am the 
leader," said Captain Duquesne, when the articles had been signed, 
" for each white man with whom they have made a treaty to give 
each hand to be clasped by an Indian, in token of good faith." 

It was a singular custom, Boone thought, and one of which he 
had never heard, experienced frontiersman though he was. But 
any refusal to comply with the demands of the enemy would on- 
ly enrage them. The white men extended their hands; the In- 
dians selected for the occasion advanced, each constraining his 
features to express a smile (but which was by no means enchant- 
ing) and uttering the word " Brother I" in his softest tones. 
Trained as he was to conceal his feelings under an appearance of 
apathy, it was beyond his skill to hide the snake-like glitter of the 
eye, which betrayed his intentions to his destined victim. They 
grappled with the settlers, but were thrown off by the strength 
of despair, as the white men wrenched themselves free. Back 



COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 209 

to the fort they fled, amid a shower of bullets and arrows, and 
tomahawks wielded by angry hands. 

The conference had taken place at a distance of only sixty 
yards from the fort; had it been greater they would have suffer- 
ed more in their flight 3 as it was, but one man was wounded. The 
firing continued after the party had reached the fort, but was re- 
turned by the besieged with such fatal eifect that the assailants 
were soon obliged to fall back from their exposed position, and 
taking advantage of all the shelter afforded, to continue the at- 
tack with more caution. 

Despairing of success in a siege where all the loss seemed to be 
on his own side, Duquesne now determined ujjon an expedient 
which he hoped would be more successful. The fort was situated 
sixty yards from the Kentucky Eiver, and beginning at the water 
mark, he directed the course of a mine toward the fort, in order 
to blow up the garrison. The fact that the usually clear river 
was muddy below a certain point awakened suspicion in the 
fort. Boone immediately divined the true state of affairs, per- 
ceiving that they must have thrown the earth into the river in 
order to prevent its being seen by him. The point of division 
between the clear and the turbid water indicated the direction of 
the mine, and he gave orders to dig a deep trench inside of the 
fort, in such a way as to cross the enemy's mine. The clay dug 
from this trench was thrown over the walls of the fort, and Du- 
quesne, reading without difficulty a message so plainly expressed, 
desisted from the undertaking. 

Having thus learned from experience the watchfulness of the 
men with whom he had to cope, he determined to renew the at- 
tack in the manner of a regular Indian siege, trusting that the 
numbers of the garrison would soon be so diminished that they 
would be forced to surrender. In this, however, he was disap- 
pointed. Man after man of his own force fell ; his provisions 
were nearly exhausted, and after nine days' trial of power and 
policy, he raised the siege, and led off his savage host. Thirty- 
seven of the Indians had been killed, and many wounded ; these 
being, according to the usage of all the tribes, immediately taken 
from the scene of action. Boone lost two men, four others being 
wounded. 

Boonesborough was never again disturbed by any large body 
of Indians. This was in consequence of the establishment of 
many new stations between it and the Ohio Eiver. Not only 



210 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

could the Indians not reach this station without leaving enemies 
in the rear, but the others being weaker were more tempting prey. 

Early in the autumn, Boone left the garrison in care of the fort, 
judging that no emergency would arise in which his leadership 
and counsel would be required; and set off to North Carolina 
for his family. His wife supposed that he had been killed at the 
time when he was captured by the Shawnees, and had returned to 
her old home. Early in the following summer they again reached 
Boonesborough, and Boone industriously cultivated his farm, 
volunteering his assistance whenever occasion required to the 
neighboring immigrants. 

In October, 1780, it once more became necessary to obtain a sup- 
ply of salt, and for this purpose Boone started in company with 
his brother Squire, to Blue Licks. The spot seemed to be fatal 
to tho pioneer; here, less than two years before, he had been 
taken prisoner by the Indians, remaining in captivity for several 
months ; here again he was destined to meet with loss, for on this 
occasion, after a hot chaseTay the Indians, he had the unhappiness 
of seeing his brother, the sharer of his boyish sports as well as 
the dangers and hardships encountered in manhood, shot and 
scalped by the savages. Nor could the poor satisfaction of re- 
venge be his. One against many, he must fly for his life. Track- 
ed by a dog, his hiding place was constantly betrayed b}^ its bark- 
ing, until, after a long flight, he turned and shot the dog. He con- 
cealed himself behind a tree, but held his hat out on a stick ; when 
his pursuers had thus wasted their shots, he aimed at them, and 
succeeded in killing both. 

Another misfortune had overtaken Boone a short time before. 
In 1779, a commission had been appointed by the Yirginia Legis- 
lature to settle Kentucky land claims, there being considerable 
trouble about the conflicting interests of different settlers. The 
Henderson or " Transylvania Company," as it was called, under 
the auspices of which Boonesborough had been .settled, claimed 
entire independence of Virginia and every other state. Kentucky, 
however, had been constituted a county of the Old Dominion, 
and various tracts of lands had been entered by later settlers 
under the laws of that commonwealth. Other states had sent 
pioneers to this region, and matters seemed to be in inexti'icable 
confusion. Major Boone, in company with many others, turned 
all his available jDroperty into ready money, intending to invest 
in land warrants. Having raised about $20,000 in paj)er money, 



212 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

and being entrusted with large sums by bis neighbors, he set OTit 
on his journey to Richmond. On the way he was attacked and 
robbed of the whole amount. One of the victims of this misfor- 
tune writes thus to his brother, who had also suffered by the 
robbery : 

" I feel for the poor people who, perhaps, are to lose even their 
pre-emptions; but I must say, I feel more for Boone, whose char- 
acter, I am told, suffers by it. Much degenerated must the people 
of this age be, when amongst them are to be found men to cen- 
sure and blast the reputation of a person so just and upright, and 
in whose breast is a seat of virtue too pure to admit of a thought 
so base and dishonorable." 

Yet, in his autobiograi^hy, there is no word of this. The lands 
he had wrested froin the savages were taken from him by legal 
quibbles ; having money to buy the title to them, he was robbed 
of it ; undertaking to perform a service for his neighbors, their 
money was taken along with his own j and at last he was ac- 
cused of appropriating it to his own use } yet he complained not, 
and we know how hard it is to bear such suspicions. 

Although Boonesborough was not again attacked, Kentucky 
was by no means in a state of tranquility. Pioneers and Indians 
both recognized the fact that Kentucky was not large enough for 
both races, and each fought, not for supremacy,but for existence. 
The year 1779 is distinguished in the annals of the state as hav- 
ing seen one of the bloodiest battles ever fought between the 
two contending races within her borders. With the single ex- 
ception of the subsequent fight at Blue Licks, no more san- 
guinary conflict ever stained the Dark and Bloody Ground, from 
the time that the white man first trod her fertile soil imtil the 
days of Albert Sydney Johnston. Although Boone was not in 
this battle, so important was its bearing upon the history of the 
state that it must be briefly described. 

Colonel Eogers, returning from New Orleans with supplies for 
the stations on the Upper Mississipj)i and Ohio Rivers, ascended 
these streams until he reached Cincinnati. (" Upper Mississippi" 
then meant that part of the river between New Orleans and the 
little French trading post called St. Louis.) Coming by chance 
upon a party of Indians crossing to the Kentucky side of the 
river, he determined to surprise them as they landed. Owing to 
low water, a large sand-bar on the south side of the river was laid 
bare, and here Rogers' men disembarked. Before they could 



COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 213 

reach the spot where he proposed to attack the enemy, they were 
set upon by a force so far superior to their own that from the first 
they fought without hope. Eogers was instantly killed, as were 
many of his men. The miserable remnant fled to the boats, only 
to find that of the two, one was in the possession of the Indians. 
Losing all sense of everything but their own danger, the few men 
in the other pushed off from shore without waiting for their com- 
rades. Turning uj^on their pursuers, and charging furiously, a 
small number broke through their ranks and made the best of 
their way to Harrodsburg. Sixty men fell by the hands of the 
Indians. 

Of less importance was an expedition headed by Col. Bowman, 
and starting from Harrodsburg, against the Shawnee town of 
Chillicothe. Beginning with every conceivable promise of suc- 
cess, a most remarkable lack of action on the part of the comman- 
der nullified all the advantages. This was in July, 1779. In June, 
1780, Riddle's and Martin's Stations, situated at the forks of Lick- 
ing Eiver, were attacked by a large party of Indians and Cana- 
dians, headed by Col. Bird. All the inhabitants were made cap- 
tives, and treated most cruelly ; those unable to endure were 
tomahawked. 

The succeeding winter was one of the severest ever known in 
Kentucky. In addition to the inclemency of the weather (which 
was not unbearable, since it kept the Indians close in their wig- 
wams), most of the corn had been destroyed by the savages dur- 
ing the summer, and the settlers were obliged "to live chiefly on 
buffalo flesh. "A hardy race, accustomed to difficulties and ne- 
cessities, they were wonderfully supported through all their suf- 
ferings." 

Throughout the summer hostilities were continued. Two boys 
were carried off from one station, and in many places horses 
were stolen and men killed, whenever such au opportunity pre- 
sented itself. Nor was it savage ferocity only which was to be 
encountered ; they were led by some rpnegadc white men, among 
whom the notorious Simon Girty was the most conspicuous. A 
league was formed, tlie parties to it being the Shawnees, Chero- 
kees, Wyandots, Tawas, Delawarcs and some other less important 
tribes. The warriors of these nations, numbering nearly six hun- 
dred, appeared before Bryant's station on the night of the 14th 
of August, 1782. Had they arrived a few hours later, they would 
have found the fort wholly unprepared for any sort of defense, 



214 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

for the entire garrison was about to march to the relief of Hoy's 
station. Preparations for departure, however, did not differ ma- 
terially from preparations for defence, and the Indians were 
somewhat dismayed by the activity of the garrison, attributed 
by them to a different cause. 

The spring which supi3lied the fort with water was at some' dis- 
tance from it, as was not uncommonly the case; the settlers seem- 
ed to feel perfectly secure until actually attacked. Taking ad- 
vantage of what would be the necessity of the garrison, the main 
body of Indians placed themselves in ambush near the spring, 
while a detachment of a hundred warriors was sent to the other 
side of the fort. This smaller party was intended as a decoy, to 
draw the garrison out, when the larger body, rushing upon the 
opposite gate and hewing it down with their tomahawks, would 
gain possession of the stronghold. 

At dawn, the garrison assembled under arms, and were about 
to open the gates and march out, when they were startled by a 
furious volley of fire-arms, echoed, in a lower key, by the wild 
yells of the savages. Froin the picketing could be seen a small 
party of Indians, making the most furious gestures. The more 
experienced and wary of the settlers detected the trick, and re- 
strained the ardent courage of those who would have sallied forth 
to the attack. They saw that there was to be a determined siege, 
and they were without water. There was but one thing to be 
done : the women must go to the spring, as usual, and bring a 
supply into the fort. 

*' Why must we go ?" was the question. " Why cannot armed 
men take the risk, since they, at least, can defend themselves ? 
We are not bullet proof, and the Indians take scalps from women 
as well as from men." 

"You bring the water every day," was the reply, "and by 
doing so now you will avert suspicion. If j^ou do as usual, they 
will not think their ambuscade is discovered, and wishing to re- 
main concealed for a longer time, they will not fire upon joii. 
If we go, the}^ will know that we suspect them, and will either 
shoot us down at the spring, or follow us into the fort." 

There was a momentary hesitation; then some of the braver 
women declared their readiness to go, and the less courageous 
folloAved their example. Betraying no sign of fear, they set out, 
marching in a body to the ppring. Their behavior completely 



COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 



215 




blinded the Indians, five hundred of whom lay within pistol-shot 
and some even nearer. ' 



216 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

As they returned, they began to give way to fear, and — let me 
not say they ran ; perhaps they feared the garrison were thirsty. 

Thirteen young men were now despatched to attack the decoy 
party, with orders to make the fight appear of as great extent as 
possible, by firing as fast as they could load and reload, and 
making a great deal of noise. Then the rest of the garrison silently 
placed themselves at the other side of the fort, ready to receive 
the expected attack. 

The Indians concealed west of the fort heard the firing, and 
thought that their stratagem had proved successful. The pre- 
concerted signal was given, and the five hundred rushed upon 
the fort that they thought defenseless. The first dreadful volley 
awakened them rudely from their dream of success; followed as 
it was by a second and a third in close succession, it was not long 
before they were sufiieiently recalled to their senses to fly to the 
woods. Hardly had they disappeared when the party sent out to 
attack the decoy came in, highly delighted at the repulse of the 
enemy. 

Having recovered from the surprise of their warm reception, 
the Indians issued from the woods and attacked the station in 
the regular manner, the fight lasting four or five hours. About 
two o'clock in the afternoon reinforcements were received from 
Lexington, couriers having been sent thither as soon as the pres- 
ence of the Indians had been discovered. Those who were 
mounted succeeded in getting into the fort without being hurt, 
but those on foot were cut off by the Indians, a running fight be- 
ing kept up for over an hour. Girty determined, however, to 
try to pursuade, since he co.uld not force them to surrender; as- 
suring them that his present force of six hundred warriors was 
not all that he could bring to bear upon them ; that reinforce- 
ments would soon arrive with several pieces of artillery, when 
they could not hope to resist; that if they would surrender, not 
a hair of their heads should be injured. In spite of the threats of 
the artillery, however (which really was alarming, as the Indians 
had destroyed two stations with cannon), the garrison held out, 
and in the morning the Indians had disappeared. 

All the morning reinforcements arrived, until by midday one 
hundred and seventy-six men were assembled at Br^^ant's station. 
About fifty or sixty of these men were commissioned officers, who 
resigned the privileges of their |)osition to fight in the ranks for 
the common weal. Colonels Trigg and Todd, and Majors Boone 



COLONEL DANIEL BOONE, 



217 



and Harland, were the leaders. Subordinate to these were Maj- 
ors McBride, McGrarj, Levi Todd, and CajDtains Bulger and Gor- 
don. 

General Logan was r-xpected to join them, in twenty-four hours 




v\UKi>AL. u* KlilNTORCEMENTS. 

at the farthest, with a large force. Although the number of men 
collected in the fort was unusually large, it was but a fraction of 
the opposing army. The Indians themselves were perfectly 
aware of this, and took no trouble to conceal their route; adver- 
tising it, rather, by the breadth of their trail and by marking 



218 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

the trees. This self-coBfideiice of the savages somewhat alarmed 
Boone, whose courage never degenerated into a fool-hardy con- 
tempt for danger ; but a retreat would now be construed by the 
Indians as evidence of weakness. 

Encamping that night in the woods, on the succeeding day they 
reached the Lower Blue Licks, and for the first time came within 
view of the Indians. To Boone, the very sight of the place where 
he had suffered so much before, must have seemed a foreboding 
of evil. 

The white men halted, a hurried consultation being held by a 
dozen or twenty officers. All eyes were turned on Boone, the 
veteran woodsman whose soldierly qualities they respected no 
less than they did his courage and integrit}^ of heart. Cautious 
were his words; the leisurely retreat of the Indians showed 
them to have a large force ready for battle. About a mile from 
where they now were, there were two ravines, one on each side 
of the ridge, and here he feared they might form an ambuscade. 
The place was excellently fitted for that purpose, as by making 
use of both ravines the Indians could attack them at once in front 
and flank before they could anticipate such a danger. There 
were two courses to be pursued: either to await the arrival of 
Logan, who would soon join them; or to divide their force, one 
half to march up the river and cross at the rapids, falling upon 
the rear of the enemy, while the remaining half crossed at that 
point, attacking the enemy in front. 

Opinions were divided as to the better course. If they re- 
mained where they were, they might be surprised under cover 
of darkness, and massacred ; if the force was divided, they might 
be beaten in detail. The discussion was suddenly cut short by 
the passionately rash courage of McGar}^, who, with a -vyar cry 
like an Indian's, spurred his horse into the stream, shouting, 
" Let all who are not cowards follow me !" 

His ardor communicated itself to the others ; no order was pos- 
sible. In the stream together were officers and men, mounted 
and unmounted. He was leader who was foremost in the wild, 
irregular mass, and toward this post of honor every man strug- 
gled. As they ascended the ridge on the opposite side of the 
stream, McGary, Boone, Harland and McBride were in the van. 
On they went with the same wild courage. No scouts were sent 
in advance, not even ordinary precautions were taken ; the only 
aim seemed to be to reach the field of blood as quickly as possible. 



COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 219 

Boone's fears were realized. Hardly had they reached the spot 
described, when the Indians, concealed in one of the bushy ra- 
vines, fired upon the van. The centre and rear hurried to the 
assistance of their companions, but were stopj^ed by a terrible 
fire from the ravine on the other side. Unprotected, on the bare 
and open ridge, the whites still stood their ground before the 
devastating volleys from the enemy sheltered by the nature of 
of its position. Gradually the combatants closed with each 
other, the Indians emerging from the ravine. This enabled the 
whites to return their fire with greater eifect than before. Many 
of the whites had already been killed, among them Todd, Trigg, 
McBride, Harland and young Boone, while the Indians were 
gradually extending their line, so as to cut off the retreat of the 
Kentuckians. Perceiving this, the rear endeavored to break 
through, and this movement being communicated to the whole 
body, a general retreat ended in the wildest disorder. The clear 
mountain stream ran blood, aaid the grass on its banks, trampled 
and uprooted in the deadly struggle, was stained with the same 
horrid dye. Those who were mounted escaped, but those who 
must trust to their own swiftness perished. 

At the commencement of the retreat, when the dreadful carn- 
age was at its height, Boone, who had seen his son and so many 
of his friends slain, found himself with a few companions, almost 
totally surrounded. But the attention of the Indians was chiefly 
drawn to the ford where most of the fugitives were endeavoring 
to cross. His acquaintance with the locality here served him in 
good stead. Dashing into the ravine in which the Indians had 
lain, they crossed the river below the ford, after having sustained 
more than one heavy fire, and baffling several small parties that 
pursued them. 

Having crossed, they entered the woods at a point where there 
was no pui'suit, and made their way back to Bryant's Station. 

Horse and foot thronged the river, struggling at once with the 
current and with tlie Indians, who were mingled with them in a 
confused mass. Nor was it altogether a strife for self-preserva- 
tion; the blood-stained record of the day is bright with stories 
of generosity. 

In the wild panic, some dozen or twenty horsemen, having 
gained the farther side of the river, spurred their horses onward, 
though many ivero still struggling in the stream. One of their 
number, Netherland, who had been strongly suspected of coward- 



220 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

ice, observing this, reined in his horse, and called upon them to 
fire on the enemy, thus aff'ording relief to those less fortunate than 
themselves. This was only temporary, however, for the num- 
ber of the Indians was so great that the places of those killed 
were quickly supplied. 

From the battle-ground to the ford was one dreadful scene of 
carnage, and for nearly twenty miles the pursuit was kept up. 
Beyond the ford, there was but slight loss to the whites. Among 
the prisoners was a young man named Eeynolds, whose captivity 
was the direct result of his own generosity. Between the battle 
ground and the river, in the course of the retreat, he came up 
with an older man who was much exhausted with the rapidity of 
the flight, being infirm by reason of wounds received in former 
battles. Dismounting, Eeynolds helped this officer upon his 
horse, and continued his way on foot. Swimming the river, his 
buckskin breeches became heavy with the water, and he was soon 
overtaken by a party of Indians, and compelled to accompany 
his captors. A prisoner's fate is never decided by the Indians 
until the close of the campaign, when they return to their village. 
Yonng Eeynolds, then, was kindly treated by his. captors, of 
whom there was a considerable party. A small group of Ken- 
tuckians seeming to them to be easy prey, he was left in charge 
of three of their number. These, eager to join their companions, 
delegated the care of the prisoner to a single Indian, and guard 
and captive jogged along quietly enough, the latter being unarm- 
ed. The Indian, at last, stooped to tie his moccasin, when Eey- 
nolds knocked him down with his fist and disappeared in the 
thicket. A gift of two hundred acres of first class land was the 
acknowledgment which he afterward received from the man 
whose life he had saved. 

Before reaching Bryant's station, the fugitives met Logan, at 
the head of his detachment. When all who had escaped arrived at 
that place, Logan found himself at the head of four hundred and 
fifty men. With Boone as second in command, he set out toward 
the battle field, hoping that the enemy, encouraged by success, 
would encamp there. But while defeat only enraged the red men 
further, victory sent them home to their own countrj^, exulting 
in their scalps and prisoners. The battle field was covered 
with the bodies of the white men, frightfully mangled. After 
burying these, Logan and Boone returned to Bryant's station 
and disbanded the troops. 



COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 



221 



Such was the bloodiest battle ever fought between white and 
red, for the soil of Kentucky. About seventy of the Kentuekians, 
or nearly one-half of the whole number engaged, were killed, 
and the 19th of August, 1782, was long celebrated in the local 
traditions. 

A few prowling bands of Indians infested the less thickly set- 
tled part of the country, but for some time there were no im- 
portant sieges or fights. Colonel Boone was enabled by the com- 
pensation which the State of Virginia gave him for his military 




THE TOBACCO STRATAGEM. 

services to purchase several tracts of land, which he cultivated 
with his usual industry, varying his agricultural pursuits with 
hunting expeditions. On one of these tracts he erected a com- 
fortable log house, near which he planted a small patch of tobac- 
co to supply his neighbors ( for he never used the " filthy weed " 
himself). 

He had built a "tobacco house," for curing it, of rails ten or 
twelve feet in height, and roofed with cane and grass. The stalks 
were split and strung on sticks about four feet long, the ends of 
these being laid on poles placed in tiers across the building. 



222 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

The lower tier being dry, Boone was busily removing it to the 
ujDper jDart of the building, sujDporting himself on the lower 
poles, when, looking down, he saw that four Indians, armed with 
guns, had entered the low door. One of them said to him: 

"Now, Boone, we got you. You no get away more. We carry 
off to Chillieothe this time. You no cheat us any more." 

Looking down from his perch, Boone recognized the intruders 
as some of the Shawnees who had captured him in 1778, and an- 
swered, pleasantly : 

" Ah, old friends, glad to see you. Wait a little, till I have 
finished putting up this tobacco, will you ? You can stand there 
and watch me." 

The loaded guns, which had been pointed at his breast, were 
lowered, and the Indians stood watching his every movement. 
At last, so interested did they become in answering his questions 
about old acquaintances, and in his promises to give them his to- 
bacco, .that they became less attentive, and did not see that he 
had gathered the dry tobacco into such a position that a touch 
would send it into their upturned faces. At the same instant that 
he touched this, he jumped upon them with as much of the dried 
tobacco as he could gather in his arms, filling their eyes and nos- 
trils with its dust. Blinded and strangling, they could not follow 
him as ho rushed towards the cabin, where he could defend him- 
self. Looking around, when he was about fifteen or twenty j^ards 
from the tobacco house, he saw them groping in all directions ; 
and heard them cursing him as a rogue, and themselves as fools. 

Quietly tilling his beautiful farm near Boonesborough, several 
years were passed in peace and tranquility. Here he dictated to 
one John Filson the autobiography before mentioned, and after 
its publication in 1784, it was one of his greatest pleasures to lis- 
ten to it when any one would read it to him. In his opinion, it 
was one of the finest specimens of literature in existence. One 
charm, at least, that it had for him, it has for all ; it is " every 
word true — not a lie in it." 

But the storms were not yet at an end ; the earliest settler in 
the community, he had been obliged to buy his farm ; expending 
for this purpose money earned as a defender of Kentucky, his 
aversion to legal technicalities and ignorance of legal forms pre- 
vented his taking care to secure a perfect title. Such defects were 
eagerly hunted up, about this period, by speculators, and many 
better informed and more careful men lost their lands by litigation. 



OOLONETj PANIKT, BOONE. 



223 




224 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 

As a result of the arts and rogueries of these speculators, not a foot 
of land remained to Boone. Sadly, but not bitterly, he resolved 
to leave Kentucky, and about 1790 he and his faithful and be- 
loved wife removed to a place near Point Pleasant, on the Kana- 
wha Eiver in Virginia. Here ho lived about five years, cultivat- 
ing a farm, raising stock, and whenever possible, hunting. 

But to the woodsman, life in this '' highly civilized " region, as 
it seemed to him, was unendurable. Here there were but traces 
of game, which must be carefully followed ; sometimes (and these 
occasions were fast growing more and more frequent) even the 
most skillful hunter failed to meet with success. With eager in- 
terest he listened to the adventurers returned from the far prai- 
ries west of the Mississippi, when they told how, over the flat, 
grass-clad plains and the low hills, roamed vast herds of buflPalo ; 
how the wild duck haunted the borders of the swift Father of 
"Waters and the turbid flood of its chief tribiitary; how often the 
cry of the wild turkey was heard through the forests that bor- 
dered the life-giving streams. He who had found happiness in the 
Kentucky wilderness longed foi a land where he might make his 
home secure from the grasp of those who wished to defraud ; 
Avhcnce he could go to the hunting ground, and not find it trans- 
formed to farms. 

In this region so favored by nature, the wandering hunters told 
him, the people were simple and straightforward, honest and hon- 
orable, needing not the laws made for those disposed to evil, nor 
seeking to avoid, through the subtilty of lawyers, the conse- 
quences of their own actions. To a man of Boone's tastes and 
experience, a land where lawsuits and lawyers were unknown 
must have seemed the very ideal of a dwelling-place. 

Hither, then, in 1795 or 1797, he took up his journey. The 
country west of the Mississippi then belonged to the Crown of 
Spain, and from the representative of that royal owner, the Lieu- 
tenant-Governor resident at St. Louis, ho received "assurance 
tliat ample portions of land should be given to him and his fam- 
ily." The Fcmme Osage settlement, the home of his son Daniel 
M. Boone, was his residence until 1804, and it was of this district 
that in 1800 he was appointed Commandant. This ofiice com- 
bined civil and military duties, and was held by him until the 
transfer of the territory of Louisiana to the United States Govern- 
ment in 1803. Removing to the residence of his youngest son, 
Maj. Nathan Boone, he remained there until 1810, when he went to 



COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 225 

live with his son-in-law, Flanders Callaway, in Callaway county. 

In consideration of his official services as Syndic, ten thousand 
arpents of excellent land (about eight thousand five hundred 
acres) were given to Colonel Boone by the Government. In ac- 
cordance with the special law, he should have obtained a con- 
firmation of the grant from the royal Governor at ISTew Orleans, 
and have taken up his residence on the land. The Lieutenant- 
Governor at St. Louis undertook to dispense with the latter con- 
dition, and Boone "reckoned all would be right" without any 
further attention to formalities than was implied in the original 
grant. He probably trusted that justice would be done by the 
United States Government; but the Commissioners appointed to 
decide on claims rejected Boone's for want of legal formalities. 

This, however, did not occur for some time after his removal to 
the state, so that the first few years spent within its bounds were 
marked by no ill luck. The office which he held under the Spanish 
Government was similar to the present OTie of justice of the peace, 
with the addition of military duties, but its exercise did not re- 
quire all his time. Plenty of leisure remained for hunting, and 
obtaining, after two or three seasons, valuable furs in sufficient 
quantity to enable him to pay some debts outstanding in Ken- 
tucky, he went thither, and asking each creditor the amount due 
him, paid it without any other guarantee than their assertion. 
Eeturning to Missouri, though he had but half a dollar remain- 
ing, he said to his family : 

"ISTow I am ready and willing to diej I ajn relieved from a 
burden that has long oppressed me; I have paid all my debts, 
and no one will say, when I am gone, 'Boone was a dishonest 
man ;' I am perfectly willing to die." 

In 1812, Colonel Boone sent a petition to Congress, praying 
that his original claim be confirmed. At his request, the Ken- 
tucky Legislature, by a series of resolutions, directed the Sena- 
tors of that state to exert themselves to further this petition. 
His appeal was neglected for some time; but Congress, in Feb- 
ruary, 1814, granted him one thousand arpents — a tract of land 
to which any settler would be entitled. 

During the period of anxiety about his land, a worse trouble 
came, in the death of the wife who had shared his dangers and 
toils for so many years. For seven years he was to live alone. 

Before this he had given up his favorite pursuit of hunting, 
even in his last expeditions being attended by some friend or ser- 



226 



COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 



vant. His time was divided among his children, the house of 
Mrs. Callaway, his eldest daughter, being headquarters, and the 
home of Major ]S'athan Boone seeing him oftenest. lie employed 
his time in making powder horns for his grandchildren, repairing 
rifles, and such other work as had been familiar to him in past 
years and was not now beyond his failing strength. One occu- 
pation which seems to us rather singular, was the daily rubbing 
and polishing of a coffin which he had had made for himself, and 
which, at his death, was found in a state of excellent finish. This 
was the second coffin made for him ; the first did not fit to his 
satisfaction, so he gave it to his son-in-law, Flanders Callaway. 
An attack of fever prostrated him in September, 1820, and on 
the twenty-sixth of that month, at the residence of his youngest 
son, he died, in the eighty-sixth year of his age, and was buried 
beside his wife. The Legislature of Missouri passed resolutions 
of resjDect, adopted a badge of mourning for thirty days, and ad- 
journed for one day. In 1845, the people of Frankfort, Ky., ob- 
tained the consent of the family to inter the bones of the great 
pioneer and his wife in the rural cemetery they had prepared; 
and the burial took place on the 20th of August of that year. 




THE GRAVJi OF LOO*NL. 



CHAPTER Till. 



SIMON KENTON. 

I]Sr the year 1771, there lived in Fauquier County, Virginia, a 
rustic belle, who found it impossible to decide between two 
of her many lovers. One of these two was a young farmer, nam- 
ed William Leitchman ; the other was Simon Kenton, a boy of 
but sixteen, but tall and well-formed. In accordance with the 
custom of the country, the matter was taken up by the friends of 
Leitchman and they administered a severe beating to his young 
rival. Smarting under this rough treatment, and feeling no less 
the coquette's admiration of the prowess of his assailants, Ken- 
ton determined ui:»on revenge. He accordingly challenged Leitch- 
man to single combat. It was a regular stand-up fight, in which 
fists were the only weapons. Such was its character at first, but 
the more matured strength of Leitchman transformed it in both 
particulars, as Kenton was soon brought to the ground, and kicks 
as well as cuffs bestowed upon him. At last, however, he gained 
the mastery, winding his rival's long hair about a bush that was 
near, and returning with good interest, not only the blows, but 
"the pangs of misprized love" as well. His passion led him 
farther than he wished, for in a little time his antagonist lay ap- 
parently lifeless upon the ground. 

Frightened at the unexpected termination, he resolved upon 
immediate flight. Through the wilderness, then, he went at full 
speed, the dark shadow of the gallows clouding his way, and 
urging him onward. For better concealment, he resolved to drop 
the name of Kenton, which might betray him, if a reward were 
offered for his apprehension, and assume that of Butler. It is as 
Simon Butler, then, that for many years he is known in the his- 
tory of Kentucky. 

Not yet, however, was he destined to reach the fertile land 
with whose welfare his own was to be so closely connected in the 

future. Falling in with various parties of adventurers and ex- 

]5 



228 SIMON KENTON. 

plorers, he at last became acquainted with two companions, Ya- 
ger and Strader, the former having been captured by the Indians 
when a child, and kept by them for many years. He described 
to Kenton an earthly j^aradise, which was familiar to him in his 
childhood by the name of Kan-tuck-ee, saying that it was to be 
reached by descending the Ohio. So confident was he in his own 
powers as a guide that Strader and Kenton procured a canoe, 
and the three young men set out. After rowing for several days 
they became rather incredulous, telling Yager that he must have 
confused different localities, and in spite of his protestations to 
the contrary, they insisted upon returning to Virginia. They 
then went to the neighborhood of the Great Kanawha, and spent 
nearly two years in that locality, engaged in the congenial and 
profitable labors of hunting and trapjjing. 

Attacked by a party of Indians in March, 1773, they were driven 
from their tent. As they fled, Strader fell by a shot from the as- 
sailants, but Kenton and Yager were more successful in their re- 
treat. But so hurried had been their flight, that they had neither 
guns, blankets nor provisions — neither food nor shelter, nor the 
means of procuring it. For five daj'S they journeyed through 
the trackless forests, with no guide towards the Ohio, their pro- 
posed destination, excejit the moss on the northward side of the 
trees, and no food but the roots which they found on the way. 
Completely exhausted by their rajiid flight and by hunger, they 
reached the banks of the Ohio at sunset on the fifth day, and ob- 
tained a supply of provisions from a party of traders that they 
found there. Meeting soon after with another party of explor- 
ers, Kenton obtained a gun and some ammunition, and, plunging 
alone into the forest, lived a hunter's life there until late in the 
summer. 

Joining somewhat later another party of adventurers, he left 
them in 1774, when Dunmore's war broke out. During the whole 
of this contest between the two races, the -names of Simon Butler 
and Simon Girty were well known as among the most efficient 
spies employed by Lord Dunmore. In their later years, the one 
was honored as a brave man and a faithful champion of the white 
man, the other reviled as a traitor and a renegade. 

Kenton had not yet given up the idea of finding the place de- 
scribed by Yager, and when the troops were disbanded at the 
close of the war, he, together with two others, set out in the di- 
rection indicated. After considerable wandering, they built a 



SIMON KENTON. 229 

cabin where Washington, Ky., now stands, and planted a small 
clearing with corn. In the forest, one day, he met with two men, 
Fitzpatrick and Hendricks, whom Kenton invited to remain at 
his cabin. In descending the Ohio, their canoe had been over- 
turned, and such had been their experience in their endeavors to 
find the settlements, that Fitzpatrick was thoroughly disgusted, 
and refused to stay. Hendricks accepted the invitation, and re- 
mained at the cabin while the others escorted his late companion 
to " The Point," the site of the modern Maysville. Having seen 
him safely across the river, and provided him with a gun and 
some ammunition, they returned to the camp, where they had left 
Hendricks without a gun, but with, a bountiful supply of food. 
They arrived at the cabin only to find it deserted, pierced here 
and there by bullets, and the various articles in much confusion. 
From a low, bushy ravine not far from the clearing rose the thick 
smoke that comes from a newly kindled fire ; strong must the In- 
dians be, when they so boldly encamped near the dwelling of 
their victim's companions, and Kenton and his two friends, judg- 
ing that it would be too unequal a contest, beat a hasty retreat 
into the woods. The evening of the next day they returned 
cautiously to the neighborhood of the camp, to find the fire 
smouldering, the Indians gone, and the ground strewn with the 
bones of their luckless companion. At the time of their return, 
Hendricks had probably been alive; perhaps the Indians were 
not so numerous as they had feared, and a sudden, sharp attack 
might have saved him from that most horrible of deaths. 

Slowly they retraced their steps to the cabin at Washington, 
pondering on the uncertainty of their lives, and filled with use- 
less regrets for their comrade. In the following September, a 
wandering hunter told them of the settlements in the interior of 
the state, and especially of the fort at Boonesborough. That this 
was pleasant news to them, is shown by their leaving the camp 
at Washington, and setting out, through the forest, to visit the dif- 
ferent stations established in various j)arts of the state. 

What became of his two companions is not recorded, but Ken- 
ton went to Boonesborough, where he participated in two sieges, 
and served as a spy with most excellent success. It was during the 
year 1777, while Kenton was in Boonesborough, that several men 
in the fields near by were attacked by Indians, and ran to the 
fort. One of the savages overtook and tomahawked a white man, 
but while stooping to scalp him, was covered by Kenton's uner- 



230 



SIMON KENTON. 




rifle A sharp crack, and the Indian fell prostrate over his 
v.ct'im. Boone, with thirteen men, of whom Kenton was one, 
sallied to the relief of the others j half of the number, including 



rins 
vi 



SIMON KENTON. 231 

the leader, were wounded at the first fire, and an Indian had al- 
ready stooped, tomahawk in hand, over the white chief whose 
cool courage they so much feared, when Kenton, with the spring 
of the panther, slew the Indian, and catching up into his arms 
the body of the leader, bore it safely into the fort. When the 
gates were securely closed, Boone sent for Kenton, his sense of 
gratitude having overcome his usual taciturnity. Yet so unused 
was he to courtly phrase that all he could say was, " Well, Simon, 
you have behaved yourself like a man to-day. Indeed, you are 
a fine fellow." 

Perhaps the young giant of twenty-two, standing there before 
the already famous pioneer, appreciated the praise more than any 
one else could ; for he knew how much meaning there was in 
these few words from that man of action. 

In the expedition that Boone led against the Indian towns in 
the summer of 1778, Kenton did good service as a spy, although 
not without danger to himself. After having crossed the Ohio, 
being on one occasion considerably in advance of the rest, the 
sound of a voice from an adjoining thicket caused him to halt and 
take his j)ost behind a tree. Soon there emerged from the thicket 
two Indians, both mounted on one pony, and in the highest good 
humor. Totally unsuspicious of danger as they were, one fell 
dead and the other wounded, by Kenton's fire. But this seeming 
success was an unlucky thing for him, for just as he was about to 
scalp his victims, he was almost surrounded by a party of about 
forty Indians. By dint of hard running, and dodging from the 
shelter of one tree to that of another, he managed to elude them 
until the main party came up, and in a furious attack, defeated 
the savages. Boone returned to the fort with all of his party ex- 
cept Kenton and a young man named Montgomery, of whom we 
shall hear again. These kept on to the Indian village, to " get a 
shot," and supply themselves with horses. For two days and a 
night they lay within rifle range of the town, but met with no 
success in their first amicable purpose. In the second, however, 
they were more fortunate, for it was on good horses that once 
belonged to Indians, that they rode into the fort after the siege 
was raised. 

About the first of September of this same year Kenton and Mont- 
gomery, with a companion named Clark, set out to the Indian 
town of Chillicothe with the avowed purpose of stealing horses, 
and there seems to have been no ojDposition to the expedition 



232 SIMON KENTON. 

from those older and presumably wiser settlers who remained in 
the fort. Probably Boone was not there, having returned to 
North Carolina for his family ; for Kenton, as we shall see, dis- 
claimed being directed by him. 

They arrived in the neighborhood of the town without meet- 
ing with any adventures, and soon discovered a drove of horses 
feeding quietly upon the rich blue-grass of the prairie. Being 
well provided with salt and halters, they succeeded in capturing 
seven, and much elated with their good luck, made off with their 
prizes. Towards the Ohio they went with all speed, expecting to 
reach the settlement some time in the night; but such a storm 
arose that they found it impossible to cross. The wind blew 
almost a hurricane, lashing the swift current of the river into 
waves like those of the sea, and through which the terrified horses 
had no mind to go. Nothing was left for them to do but to ride 
back a little distance into the hills and turn the horses loose to 
graze. In the morning the wind had fallen, but the horses re- 
fused to enter the water, remembering, doubtless, the storm of 
the previous day. Knowing the Indians would probably be in 
pursuit of them, they determined to select the three best of the 
seven, and make their way to the falls of the Ohio, where some 
men had been stationed by General Clark. Acting on this plan, 
four of the horses were turned loose. Hardly had they set out, 
however, when they regretted what they had done, and returned 
to recapture the animals which by this time had strayed out of 
sight. 

The little party separated, and the three men went in different 
directions, Kenton bending his steps toward the point where they 
had tried to cross the river on the preceding day. Before long 
he heard a wild whoop from the direction in which he was going. 
Dismounting and tying his horse, he crept stealthily towards the 
sound, to make observations. Reaching the high bank of the 
river, he saw the Indians very near him, but was himself unper- 
ceivcd. So close to him was the party, that, seeing he could not 
retreat unseen, he adopted the boldest, because the safest plan, 
and aimed at the foremost Indian. His gun flashed in the pan. 
With the speed of the startled deer he ran through the forest, 
where the storm had torn up tree after tree by the roots, and laid 
them prostrate on the earth. After him came the force of mounted 
Indians, but so much did the fallen timber retard them that they 
divided into two parties, and rode around the obstructions. Just 



SIMON KENTON. 



233 



as Kenton emerged from the timber, he was met by one of the 
Indians, who rode up, jumped from his horse and rushed at him 
with uplifted weapon. Drawing back, in order to strike the In- 
dian with his gun before the tomahawk could be used, Kenton 
found himself in the embrace of an Indian who had slipped uj) 
behind. The main body having come up, resistance was useless, 
and Kenton surrendered. While the Indians were binding Ken- 
ton with tugs, Montgomery fired at them, but missing his aim, 
fled and was pursued by those not guarding Kenton. Soon the 




kknton's mazeppa ride. 
party returned, displaying before the eyes of the miserable cap- 
tive the bloody scalp of his companion. Clark had escaped their 
clutches, and soon afterward arrived safely at Logan's Fort. 

According to their usual custom, the Indians took their prison- 
er with them to their own town of Chillicothe, thereto determine 
his fate in solemn council. When they were ready to set out 
towards that place, they proceeded to secure their prisoner in 
such a way as to jirevent his escape, and at the same time provide 
them with as much amusement as possible. Catching the wild- 
est horse in their company, they lashed their prisoner on it, ty- 
ing his feet together under the horse, fastening his arms with a 
rope and then covering them with a pair of moccasins 3 then ty- 



284 SIMON KENTON. 

ing a rope around his neck, and securing one end to the horse's 
neck, they tied the other end to his tail to answer for a crupper. 
Of course only a limited number could assist in the preparations ; 
so the majority amused themselves by dancing around him and 
inquiring, tauntingly: 

" You steal Injun boss again? Injun got heap good boss — you 
steal some? Long-knife like Injun boss — steal whole drove. 
Long-knife on Injun boss now, but he no steal it." 

The wild young horse was set free from their restraint, and 
ran, rearing and plunging, into the woods. The moccasins on 
his hands prevented Kenton from defending himself from the 
overhanging branches, and he was so securely tied that there was 
no possibility of escape. 

The horse, finding that he could not rid himself of bis burden, 
returned to the company of his fellows, and jogged along with 
them quietly enou/'^h. At night the prisoner was as securely bound 
as by day. Laid on his back, each fbot was tied to a stake driven 
into the ground for that purpose. His extended arms were lashed 
to a jDolo laid across his breast, and a rope tied around his neck, 
almost tight enough to choke him, was fastened to a neighboring 
tree. In this uncomfortable position, at the mercy of the numer- 
ous swarms of gnats and mosquitoes, he passed three nights. The 
last of these was at the encampment about a mile fromChillicothe, 
where all the inhabitants of the town came to welcome the war- 
riors and their prisoner. For about three hours this party of 
one hundred and fifty tormented the luckless captive, dancing 
and yelling around him, stopping occasionally to beat and kick 
him. Returning to town after this diversion, they left him for 
the rest of the night to the tender mercies of the gnats and mos- 
quitoes. 

As soon as it was light in the morning, they returned to the 
camp to make preparations for more amusement. Kenton was 
doomed to run the gauntlet. The warriors formed in two lines, 
about six feet apart, each armed with a stout hickory, so that 
they could beat him as much as they pleased. JSTor was this 
all. Kenton, his sharp eyes made sharper by the danger, saw 
more than one knife drawn to plunge into him. Familiar with 
the custom of the savages, he broke through the line before reach- 
ing the first Indian so armed, trusting to reach the council house 
before they could overtake him; if he should succeed in doing so, 
h© would not be again compelled to run the gauntlet. "With all 



SIMON KENTON. 



235 



his sjDeed he ran, pursued by two or three hundred Indians, yell- 
ing like as many devils let loose. He might have been able to 
reach the goal if he had not met an Indian, walking leisurely 
from the town: with this unexpected foe to contend with, besides 




DESPERATE EFFORT TO ESCAPE. 

the yelling horde behind, and exhausted by all that he had under- 
gone during the past three days, he was soon caught and thrown 
down. The others came up, and there was a repetition of the 
night's performances; th*y danced and shouted, beating and 
kicking him to their heart's content. Then, fearful that his 



236 SIMON KENTON. 

strength might give way before they were sufficiently amused, 
they brought him food and water. 

As soon as he was thus refreshed, they took him to the council 
house, where his fate was to be decided. The warriors placed 
themselves in a circle, an old chief standing in their midst, with 
a knife and a stick. Although Kenton did not understand their 
language, the glance of the eye and the movements of the hands 
told him plainly that many urged his death. 

The speeches were at an end, and the old chief handed a war- 
club to the warrior who sat near the door. By means of this the 
vote was to be taken, a blow upon the ground meaning death, 
while simply passing it to the next meant life. Here, again, 
Kenton could discern their meaning by their gestures, and the 
votes for his death were by far the more numerous. The old chief 
tallied all on his stick, first on one side, then on the other, and 
soon declared the result, when sentence of death was passed up- 
on the prisoner. 

There was another question to be decided which demanded 
hardly less careful consideration; this was the time and place of 
execution. Whether he should be put to death immediately, or 
reserved for solemn sacrifice in the presence of the whole tribe, 
was debated with considerable warmth. The latter opinion pre- 
vailed, and they set out with him toward "Wapatomika. Passing 
through two other Indian towns on the way, Kenton was com- 
pelled to run the gauntlet at both, being severely beaten. All 
this time there had been not a single opportunity to escape, but 
being carelessly guarded at the latter town they passed through, 
he made a break and ran. However hopeless his escape from this 
large body might seem, nothing but death could follow failure, 
and he had for days past endured a living death. In spite of all 
the exhausting tortures which he had undergone since his capture, 
he distanced his pursuers, and his hopes rose high; only to be 
dashed down, however, for when he reached a point about two 
miles from the town, he met a large party of Indians, on their 
way to join his tormentors. These, recapturing him, took him 
back to the town, and gave him again into the hands of his orig- 
inal captors. 

The last ray of hope had gone out in the night of despair. 
There seemed no chance of life, and Kenton sullenly gave him- 
self up to his fate. Of the horror of his doom he had already 
had a foretaste, made doubly dreadful as it was by the love of 



SIMON KENTON. 237 

life so strong at three-and-twenty. With the calmness of despair 
he looked upon the yelling horde around him, conveying him to 
Wapatomika and the stake. Already had his skin been stained 
with the black dye which showed him condemned to death, when 
the renegade white man, Simon Girty, approached him. Com- 
rades-in-arms had they been, while serving together in Dunmore's 
war ; thence one had joined the Kentucky settlers, and the other, 
after serving a short time in the American army against the 
British, had deserted to the Indians, the allies of the latter. 
Like all apostates, he became worse than those who were "to the 
manor born," and for twenty years his name was the terror of 
the border; could anj^thing be hoped from the man who was 
more savage than his terrible allies, who spared not man, woman 
or child ? At his belt hung the scalps, still reeking with blood, 
witb which he had just returned ; near by were his prisoners, a 
woman and seven children. 

When Kenton had entered the council-house at Wapatomika, 
he had been greeted with such a scowl from all assembled there 
as would have made his heart sink if he had still entertained any 
hope. Now, however, he felt it was welcomed, as showing that 
the inevitable end was near. 

Throwing a blanket on the floor, Girty, in his harshest tones, 
ordered him to take a seat upon it. Angered by a momentary 
delay, the "white savage " caught the prisoner's arm, and jerking 
him roughly upon the blanket, pulled him down upon it. In the 
same forbidding tone Girty asked him howmajiy men there were, 
in Kentucky. Kenton, true to the last, answered that he did not 
know, but that he could name the officers and state the rank, and 
the questioner could judge for himself. Thereupon he proceeded 
to name every man to whose name a military "handle" was at- 
tached, whether he had a command or not, and succeeded in giving 
an impression that the whites were much stronger than they were 
in reality. In response to an inquiry about William Stewart, 
Kenton said that he was an old and intimate acquaintance. 

" What is your own name ? " was the next question. 

" Simon Butler," answered the prisoner. The effect was elec- 
trical. Springing from his seat, Girty embraced his old compan- 
ion with all the ardor of a more emotional nature. Turning to 
the assembled warriors, he spoke in defense of his friend. They 
had trodden the war-path side by side, and had slept under the 
same blanket. His emotion made him eloquent: 



238 SIMON KENTON. 

" Shall I be denied this one thing? "Warriors of the Shawnees, 
when has the hand of Katepacomen been clean, when that of his 
Indian brother was bathed in blood ? Has Katepacomen ever 
spared the white man's scalp ? Has he not brought to Wapato- 
mika eight prisoners ? Do not seven fresh scalps hang at his belt ? 
Now the white brother of Katepacomen has fallen into the hands 
of his Indian brothers and they wish to torture him. Shall 
Katepacomen stand by and see his brother eaten bv the flames? 
To those who are born warriors of the Shawnees, the life of a 
white prisoner is given for the asking ; will my brothers deny so 
little a thing to the brother born among the white men, who has 
chosen to live among the Indians?" 

No voice but his own broke the stillness; when he finished, the 
deep, guttural tones of the chiefs sjiokeboth approval and disap- 
proval. Some of them urged that the prisoner had already been 
condemned to death, and that they would be acting like squaws 
to be changing their minds every hour. Besides this, the pris- 
oner richly deserved his doom; not only had he stolen their 
horses, but he had flashed his gun at one of their young men, and 
had tried his best to escaj)e. So bad a man could never be a bro- 
ther to them, as was Girty ; he could never be an Indian in his 
heart, like Katepacomen. More than this, many of their people 
had come a great distance to witness the execution, and after 
coming so far, it would be cruel to disappoint them. 

Girty listened impatiently to this pathetic pleading for the en- 
joyment of the people. No sooner had the young warriors con- 
cluded their speeches than he sj)rang to his feet, and spoke again 
in favor of his friend: 

"Has Katepacomen ever spared the white man's scalp? Has 
he ever before pleaded for the life of a captive? Never before 
has he asked a boon of his Indian brothers, and now this, which 
they would grant without hesitation to one of their own race, 
they would refuse to him. If the warriors of the Shawnees trust 
in the good faith and love of Katepacomen, let them give him the 
life of his white brother." 

Not a word did Kenton understand of these speeches, since all 
used the Shawnee tongue. At length the discussion came to an 
end, and the war-club was passed around the assembly, that the 
vote might be taken. This time the decision was for life. Hav- 
ing thus succeeded in his endeavors, Girty conducted his friend 
t« his #wn wigwam and fitted him out from his own wardrobe, 



SIMON KENTON. 239 

Kenton's clothes having been torn from him by the infuriated 
savages. For three weeks they lived a perfectly quiet life, Ken- 
ton meeting with the most friendly and cordial treatment from the 




SIMON GIRTY, THE RENEGADE. 

very chiefs who had most violently opposed Girty's pleadings. 

About twenty days after his deliverance, as Grirty, Kenton and 
an Indian named Redpolc were walking together, they were met 



240 SIMON KENTON. 

by another Indian, who repeatedly uttered a peculiar whoop. 
This, Girty informed him, was the distress halloo, and summoned 
them to the council-house. Kenton had no particular love for 
any council-house whatever ; he would have much preferred to 
give them all a wide berth, and not hold any very intimate com- 
munication with those who were assembled there ; but there was 
no choice. 

The Indian who had hallooed, saluted them, and readily gave 
his hand to Girty and Eedpole, but refused Kenton's. This was 
ominous. It was but the beginning of what was to come ; on 
reachino; the council-house, no one of the warriors there assem- 
bled would give his hand to Kenton. Many of the chiefs were 
strangers from distant towns, and the assembly was larger than 
in either of the other councils. Once again the impassioned de- 
bate was held — Girty pleading for his friend, the savages thirst- 
ing for his blood. But the eloquence which had before proven 
so effective was lost upon the stranger wari'iors, and turning to 
Kenton, the " white savage" said, with a suspicious brightness in 
his eyes : 

" Well, my friend, you must die." 

A strange chief seized the captive by the collar, and he was 
quickly bound and committed to a guard. With him they instant- 
ly setoff, the Indians being on horseback, and Kenton on foot, 
a rope tied around his neck, one end being held by one of the 
guard. About two and a half miles from Wapatomika, Girty 
overtook them and told Kenton that he was on his way to the 
next village, in order to secure the influence of some friends he 
had there. But there, as in Wapatomika, the eloquence of Kate- 
pacomen was in vain, and the white savage, theterror of the bor- 
der, the most ruthless of the children of the wilderness, returned 
by another route to his home. He could not again see the friend 
he could not save. 

When they had gone two or three miles beyond the first vil- 
lage they saw, a few yards from the trail, a squaw chopping wood, 
while her lord the warrior sat by smoking, to see that she 
worked industriously. The very sight of Kenton set on fire the 
hot blood in his veins, and snatching the axe from the hand of 
the patient toiler, he rushed upon the captive, and before any 
defense could be made, dealt a blow which crushed through his 
shoulder, shattering the bone, and almost severing the arm from 
the body. Eaising the axe for a second time, his arm was 



SIMON KENTON. 241 

stopped by Kenton's guard, who reproached him with wishing to 
rob them of pleasure by the premature murder of the victim. 

Arriving at a large village on the head waters of the Scioto, 
they halted for the night. Here, a chief of striking and manly 
appearance, of calm and noble front, speaking English fluently 
and well, his utterance such as persuades men to do his will, 
came up to Kenton. It was Logan, the eloquent chief of the Min- 
goes, so highly praised by the author of the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence. Struck by the manlj^ beauty and soldierly bearing of 
the young captive, or perhaps moved only by his misfortunes, 
Logan, after exchanging a few words with Kenton, said to him : 

''Well, don't be disheartened; I am a great chief; a^ou are to 
go to Sandusky — they speak of burning you there, — but I will 
send two runners to-morrow to speak good for you." 

Cheered by this promise, Kenton remained quietly at Logan's 
lodge all night and the next day, being permitted to spend much 
of the time with the benevolent chief. Logan kept his promise, 
and the runners were despatched to Sandusky early in the morn- 
ing, returning in the evening. After their return, Logan avoided 
seeing Kenton until the succeeding morning, when, walking up 
to him, accompanied by the guards, he said : 

" You are to be taken to Sandusky." 

Giving him a piece of bread, the chief, without uttering another 
word, turned and walked away. 

Kenton had been consumed by the most intense anxiety since 
the return of the messengers, and the conduct of.the friendly chief 
(lid not tend to reassure him. There was nothing to conjecture 
but that Logan had overrated his influence, that his intercession 
had been as useless as Girty's, and that Kenton must meet the 
dreadful fate decreed by the council. To Sandusky, then, they 
marched, his hope at the lowest ebb. It seemed that every friendly 
power failed when exerted in his behalf, no matter how strong 
it might be in other directions. Despite the exertions of these 
two friends, he was to be burnt at Sandusky the morning after 
his arrival. 

But even then, when only a few hours of life seemed to remain 
to him, an apparent enemy was transformed into a powerful 
friend. 

This was Captain Drcwyer, a French Canadian in the employ 
of the British government as Indian agent. lie represented to 
the Indians the value, to the commandant at Detroit, of a prisoner 



242 SIMON KENTON. 

intimately acquainted with the settlements in Kentucky, and by 
appealing first to their cupidity, and then to their fears, his bribes 
and threats secured the loan of Kenton, it being expressly stip- 
ulated, however, that when all possible information had been ex- 
tracted from him, he should be returned to them for their own 
purposes. 

Drewyer immediately set out for Detroit with his prisoner. 
While they were on their journey, he told Kenton on what terms 
he was released from immediate danger, adding that he ( Drew- 
yer) had no intention of keeping his promise by delivering up to 
such inhuman wretches the life in his power. Continuing in this 
strain, lauding his own generosity, he began to question Kenton 
as to the number of men in Kentucky, and the state of defense. 
Kenton replied that he was only a private, obeying orders given 
by those who had the direction of affairs ; that being in so low a 
rank, his range of vision was but narrow, not enabling him to 
judge of the general condition of things ; that he had no taste for 
meddling with others, for he had found it quite enough to take 
care of himself — sometimes more than he could do. After this 
reply, he was troubled with no more questions. 

Arriving in Detroit early in October, he remained there in a 
state of easy restraint, for eight months. Restricted to certain 
rather wide boundaries during the day, and obliged to report 
every morning to a British officer, there was no other condition 
attached to his comings and goings. Some time was required for 
his recovery from the effects of. the Indians' brutality, but, once 
strong and well, the young freeman longed for his wild home 
again. To escape from Detroit was easy enough, but it would 
be more difficult to journey safely through the wilderness, alone 
and unarmed, a distance of two hundred miles, among Indians 
who were eager for his death. Even setting aside the latter con- 
sideration, there would be, in those trackless forests, no food but 
the wild game, which could not be killed without a gun. 

Carefully and secretly he laid and worked out his plans. Two 
young Kentuckians, taken with Boone at the Blue Licks and pur- 
chased by the British, shared his thirst for liberty, and the three 
patiently awaited their opportunity. The most difficult thing 
was to obtain guns and ammunition without the knowledge of 
the commandant, but even this was overcome; Kenton bought of 
two Indians, plied with rum for the purpose, their guns, and hid 
the precious purchase in the woods. Managing to get another 



SIMON KENTON. 243 

rifle, and a supply of ammiinition, through a citizen of the town, 
they set out on their lonely and perilous journey. Traveling 
only at night, they reached Louisville after a march of just one 
month. Ten months before, Kenton had started out, in company 
with Montgomery and Clark, to the town of Chillicothe. In the 
space of a month, he had been exposed to the ordeal called run- 
ning the gauntlet no less than eight times ; three times had he 
been tied to the stake to sufter the most horrible death known 
to fiendish ingenuity ; and the intervals had been times of the 
greatest possible mental anguish. 

Arrived in Kentucky, he was by no means disposed to rest up- 
on his laurels, and to live upon the memory of what he had suf- 
fered. Had he been made of such stuff, he would not have had 
the intercession of either Girty or Logan ; the one knew by ex- 
perience, the other by instinct, what manner of man he was, and 
it was the manhood within him that they would have rescued. 
From his arrival in Kentucky, then, until 1782, he was constant- 
ly in active service, as guide, scout and officer. In the latter year, 
a piece of unexpected good news reached him. Hearing, for the 
first time in eleven years, from his old home in Yirginia, he learn- 
ed that Leitchman, the rival of whose death he thought himself 
guilty, was yet alive, having soon recovered from the consequences 
of the fight. Dropping the name of Butler, and assuming his own 
again, he returned to visit his parents, and succeeded in persuad- 
ing them to remove to Kentucky. Friendly relations were also 
established with Leitchman and his wife. Simon Kenton's father 
died on the journey, but the others reached Maysville ( or the 
site of the present town ) and founded there a settlement on the 
very spot where he had pitched his first camp on Kentucky soil. 
Being so near the Indians, however, did not contribute to the 
peace of the town, and incursion and raid were fi'equent. Kenton 
never let such inroads pass without severe retaliation, and in 
1793 he drove back the last of the dusky invaders into the Ohio 
country. In the succeeding year he served as major in " Mad 
Anthony Wayne's " campaign, but was not present at the victory 
which closed it. 

But with peace to the borders came trouble to Kenton. The 

same difficulties which beset Boone in regard to the title to his 

land, came to Kenton, and even his body was seized for debt. 

To escape the persecutions of the speculators, he moved over to 

the Ohio wilderness in 1707, or, according to another authority, 
10 



244 SIMON KENTON. 

in 1802. Living there quietly enough, the restful monotony of 
the farmer's life was broken in the year 1813, when, joining the 
Kentucky troops under Governor Shelby, he was present at the 
battle of the Thames. Eeturning to his cabin, he continued to live 
near Urbana until 1820, when he removed to a spot within sight 
of what had been the Indian town of Wapatomika, the scene of 
so many adventures forty-two years before. 

But misfortunes continued to follow him, and the very land 
which he tilled had to be entered in the name of his wife. He 
had owned large tracts of land in Kentucky-, but they had become 
forfeited to the state for taxes. In 1824 he undertook to go to 
Frankfort, to ask of the Kentucky Legislature a release of the 
forfeiture. Saddling his sorry old horse, he set out on his jour- 
ney, stopping the first night at the house of Major Galloway, in 
Xenia, Ohio. This friend, seeing the shabby outfit of the old 
pioneer, gave vent to his honest indignation against a country 
that could leave the old age of so faithful a servant to penury. 

" Don't say that, Galloway," said the old man, drawing his tall 
figure to its full height, his gray eyes flashing fire as they did but 
rarely ; *' Don't say that, or I'll leave your house forever, and 
never call you my friend again," 

Arrived at Prankfort, the old man cut but a shabby figure in the 
now busy streets, that he had known as glades in the forest and 
buifalo-paths through the cane-brakes. His tattered garments, 
his dilapidated saddle and bridle, and his old, almost broken 
down horse, excited universal derision from the thoughtless mul- 
titude. But no one dreamed that this was Simon Kenton. Truly, 
a prophet is not without honor, save in his own country, and 
among his own people. 

But a rescuer came, in the person of General Fletcher, an old 
companion-in-arms. Hearing the story of the pioneer, this friend 
in need took him to a store and fitted him out with a; good suit of 
clothes and a hat, and then escorted him to the State Capitol. 
Here, seated in the Speaker's chair, the most prominent men 
present in the city were introduced to him, and he was made to 
feel that the place given to him, in their minds, was second only 
to Boone's. With this, he was more than content, and for years 
afterward did he speak of this as "the proudest day in his life." 
General Fletcher's kindness was highly appreciated, as he prob- 
ably kept that suit of clothes and the hat until his death: certain 
it is that ten years after this they were still in active service. 



SIMON KENTON. 245 

His mission was crowned with entire success. Not only were 
his lands gladly released by the Legislature, but the exertions 
of some friends secured from Congress a pension of $250, thus se- 
curing his old age from absolute want. Returning to his cabin 
on the banks of Mad Eiver, he spent his few remaining years in 
calm and quiet, passing peacefully away at the ripe age of eighty- 
one in the year 1836. He was buried near the home of his declin- 
ing years, within sight of the spot where, nearly half a century 
before, the Indians had bound him to the stake ; and thus passed 
away the second 2:)ionecr of Kentucky — of the great region, in- 
deed, west of the Alleghanies. 



CHAPTER IX. 



O 



OTHEE HEEOES OF THE DAYS OF BOONE. 

THE WETZELS. 

F all the heroes of the border, who lived in the latter years 
of the last and the earlier part of the present century, there 
are none whose names are dearer to those who love tales of ad- 
venture, than the Wetzels. "Western Virginia was a wilderness 
when, in the year 1772, old John Wetzel, a rough but brave and 
honest German, settled there with his family of five sons and 
two daughters. Nor was such a course any less dangerous than 
it appears. The boys were but children, the youngest, Lewis, 
being eight or nine years old, and could not afford any assistance 
in defending the home, if it should be attacked by the treacher- 
ous denizens of the woods. But in the rough school of the fron- 
tier, boys quickly learned to be men. and John Wetzel probably 
soon had help from his sons in his occupation of hunting and 
fishing, and in locating lands. Their home was at some distance 
from the fort, a position of no small danger in those times, when 
the Indians were so troublesome. Many adventures are recorded 
of his five sons, and none without interest. Handed down from 
father to son, published in the newspapers of later date without 
any reference to other parts of the heroes' lives, isolated in the 
same way in books of adventure, it is only with great difficulty 
that they can be arranged in order; and even when the utmost 
care is used in sifting the early adventures from those of a later 
time, the position of some must be guess-work. The youngest of 
these brothers, Lewis, is the one around whose name the deeds 
of daring cluster most thickly. Let us, then, follow the course of 
his life, turning aside occasionally to notice Martin or George, 
John or Jacob, as the case may be. 

The heat of the contests with the Indians seemed to have pass- 
ed away in 1778, and no fear was felt of sudden incursions from 
them. Lewis and Jacob, both mere boys, were playing near the 



THE WETZELS. 247 

house, when Lewis, turning around suddenly, saw the barrel of a 
gun protruding from behind a corn crib. Quick as thought he 
jumped backward, but too late, for a ball wounded him severely 
in the chest. Hardly had the shot been fired, when two dusky 
giants leaped from their shelter upon the boys and carried them 
off. On toward their village across the Ohio they went, passing 
that river on the second day. The bullet had ploughed its way 
over almost the whole width of Lewis' chest, and the wound was 
excessively painful ; nor did the rapid pace at which they went 
tend to subdue the fever in his hot young blood; but he knew 
too well the fate of an Indian's prisoner, if he were too weak to 
keep pace with his captor, and to avoid the tomahawk, bore 
his pain with composure. 

The Ohio between the young captives and their homes, the In- 
dians relaxed their vigilance, and did not tie the boys the next 
night. The camp-fire died down, the night wore on, and the two 
warriors were fast asleep. With the light, quick step which he 
had learned from the Indian fighters who frequented his father's 
house, and indeed, from his father and elder brothers, Lewis rose 
and went to Jacob's side. A touch awakened the sleeping boy, 
and sjgns told him his brother's plan. Noiselessly they stole 
away and pushed into the woods. They had gone about a hun- 
dred yards, and their feet were torn and bleeding ; many weary 
miles had yet to be traveled. 

" We cannot go barefooted," said Lewis; " I will go back and 
get moccasins." 

Back to the camp he stole with noiseless tread, and soon re- 
turned with the desired protection. Going a little farther, an- 
other want was discovered — they were unarmed. Back again to 
the camp went Lewis, and with a gun, escaped for the third time 
in safety. At their utmost speed they went, but not fast enough 
to wholly distance the Indians. The warriors had soon discovered 
the absence of the captives, and knowing well the point at which 
the boys would aim, followed in haste, but fortunately not noise- 
lessly. The boj's heard their pursuers, and slipped aside from 
the trail that they had been following; the Indians passed on- 
ward, but soon returned ; the Wetzcls had eluded them, however, 
and reached the Ohio in safety. Lashing two logs together, they 
crossed the stream, and soon reached home. 

It was about four j^ears after this, Avhon Lewis was near eigh- 
teen, that he had what is perhaps the most famous fight of his 



248 THE WETZELS. 

life. An expedition into the Indian country, under the leader- 
ship of Col. Crawford, had resulted most disastrously ; the com- 
mander and many of his subordinates were taken prisoners, and 
put to the torture ; many were killed ; a few escaped, and ar- 
rived, breathless with their speed and terror, at the nearest set- 
tlements. One of these fugitives had left his horse at Indian 
Spring, and pushed on to Wheeling on foot. Arrived there, he 
persuaded Lewis Wetzel to go back with him to the spring for his 
horse. Wetzel knew the danger, and spoke of it, but Mills was 
determined to regain possession of the animal, and they went 
together. Beaching the neighborhood of the spring, they spied 
the horse tied to a tree near the water. This was an unmistaka- 
ble sign, and Wetzel warned Mills of the danger; the latter, how- 
ever, was deaf to all his companion could say, and started toward 
the spring to unfasten the animal. A sharp crack — another — and 
he fell mortally wounded. 

Wetzel knew that his only safety was in flight, and ran at his 
utmost speed. Four Indians bounded from the shelter of the 
trees whence they had fired upon Mills, and followed him with 
fleet footsteps. The fugitive would soon be theirs, and in glad 
anticipation of a prisoner to be tortured, or of a scalp to be 
added to the string of ghastly trophies, they aroused the echoes 
with their fiendish yells. Half a mile they ran, and one of the 
savages was so close upon his heels that Lewis, dreading the 
tomahawk, turned and shot him dead. Any pause would be fatal, 
for even if he reloaded and shot another, there would still be 
two more pursuers to whom such a delay would be an incalcula- 
ble advantage. There was no need to stop, however, for he had 
acquired the ability to load his gun while at a full run, and this 
invaluable art was now called into use. Another half mile, and 
he was still in advance, though but slightly; as he turned to 
fire, the foremost Indian caught the muzzle of his gun, and the 
struggle was, for a moment, of doubtful issue. The savage had 
nearly wrested the weapon from the hands of his antagonist, 
when, gathering all his strength for one last eff'ort, Lewis re- 
gained possession of his gun, and, with its muzzle touching the 
Indian's neck, fired, killing him instantly. 

The end of the contest had not come a moment too soon, for 
the others had nearly overtaken him. Springing forward, he elud- 
ed their grasp, until, having had time to reload, he slackened his 
pace slightly, in order to put an end to the sport. A glance 



THE WETZELS. 



249 



around, however, would send his i)iirsuers behind trees to shelter 
themselves from that terrible gun, never unloaded. Another 
mile was passed in this manner, and at last a comparatively open 
spot was reached. Turning here, he pointed his piece at the 
foremost Indian ; the tree did not shelter him altogether, and he 
fell, dangerously wounded. The fourth Indian retreated in hot 
haste, to tell his brethren of the magic power he had escaped; 
and doubtless manj- a camp-fire heard the story of the long-haired 
youth whose gun was always loaded. 

It was probably about this time that Jacob Wetzel and Simon 




LEWIS WETZEL LOADING WHILE RUNNING — "HIM GUN ALWAYS LOADED." 

Kenton decided to go on a fall hunt together into the hilly coun- 
try near the mouth of the Kentucky Eiver. Arriving at the se- 
lected ground, they found unmistakable " Indian sign." They 
had no notion of retreating without finding how many warriors 
there were near, and moving cautiously about, and following 
the firing which they heard from time to time, they discovered 
the camp about evening on the second day. Keeping themselves 
concealed until night, they saw, by the light of the fire that was 
kindled, five well-armed warriors. In defiance of that law which 
enjoins a night attack for an inferior force, that its numbers may 
be magnified by fear and uncertainty, they decided to defer the 



250 THE WETZELS. 

fight until dawn ; perhaps because the flickering light of the fire 
might make one miss his aim. Lying behind a log which would 
serve for concealment and a rampart, they awaited the coming 
of light. At the first dawn of day, their guns were cocked, the 
triggers drawn, and two Indians fell. Wetzel's rifle was double- 
barreled, and the third man was killed almost as soon as the first. 
Having now to contend with equal numbers, they bounded over 
the log and were in the camp almost before the remaining Indians 
had recovered from their first surprise. Resistance was useless, 
for they thought that there must be many " Long-knives" near, 
and the terrified Indians sought safety in flight. The fleet-footed 
hunters followed with even greater speed, and soon returned to 
the camp, each with a bloody scalp at his belt. 

Hitherto, the Wetzels had acted in self-defense, or, as all the 
settlers did, had attacked the Indians to prevent the saviages from 
attacking them; but after 1787, a new element, the desire of re- 
venge, was added to their motives. Old "Wetzel was returning 
home in a canoe with a single companion, when they were hailed 
by a party of Indians on shore and ordered to land ; they of 
course refused, and were rowing for their lives when they were 
fired upon and Wetzel shot through the body — mortally wounded. 

"Lie down in the canoe," he said to his companion, "and I 
will paddle as long as my strength lasts — maybe then we'll be 
out of range." 

The dying man rowed on, and as they approached the settlement 
the Indians ceased to pursiie them; his heroism saved the life of 
his friend, and made his sons relentless enemies of the savages. 

It was probably but a short time after his father's death that Mar- 
tin Wetzel, the eldest of the brothers, was surprised and captured 
by the Indians. For a long time escape was impossible, for he 
was carefully and closely watched; but after months hadjiasscd, 
and he seemed perfectly satisfied to remain where he was, he 
was accorded greater liberty; and finally, he acquired their 
confidence to such an extent that he was adopted into one of their 
families. With three young warriors he started on a fall hunt, 
and the party encamped near the head of the Sandusky Eiver. 
Here Martin was very careful to return to camj) first in the eve- 
ning, prepare wood for the night and perform all the other ofii- 
ces which a warrior finds so distasteful ; in this way he made 
still greater progress in their confidence. But all the while he 
was 23lanning to escape; not merely that, but to take a signal 



THE WETZELS. 251 

vengeaaice for his father's death and his own long captivity. One 
afternoon, as he was hunting at some distance from the camp, he 
came upon one of his Indian companions. The unsuspecting sav- 
age i^arted from hina after a momentary greeting, and a few sec- 
onds afterward fell, pierced to the heart by a ball from Wetzel's 
rifle. Concealing the body in the liollow made by the torn-up 
roots of a tree, and covering it with brush and dead leaves, he 
returned to camj). 

Wood was gathered for the night, and supper prepared. When 
the two Indians returned, Martin innocently inquired about the 
third; neither had seen him. As time went on, and still the mur- 
dered savage did not come, Wetzel expressed great concern about 
his absence. 

''Maybe he find new hunting-ground far off," suggested one, 
with an indifferent air. Later on, Martin again gave vent to his 
anxiety in words, and another explanation was proffered : 

"Maybe he follow turkey too far to come back. He camp in 
woods." 

The Indians, he saw, were completely off their guard, and it 
only remained for him to decide whether he would attack them 
separately or both at once. Concluding the former to be the 
better 2)lan, when they set out in the morning he followed one at 
a safe distance. Cautiously pursuing him until near evening, he 
pretended to meet him unexpectedly, and began to talk about the 
day's hunt. Chatting gaily for a while, Martin's lynx eye watch- 
ed the Indian's every motion j the savage turned aside for a mo- 
ment, when crash ! went the white man's tomafiawk, cleaving his 
skull. A hollow near by concealed the bod}", and Wetzel M^ent 
back to camp. 

The third destined victim approached, bending under the load 
of game which he had shot. Eunning forward to disencumber 
him of his burden, as the Indian supposed, his relentless toma- 
kawk descended, and crushed out the life of the last barrier be- 
tween him and freedom. There was now no danger of pursuit, 
and Wetzel leisurely gathered up what he chose to take with him, 
not forgetting the scalps of his three victims, and reached home 
in safet}^ after an absence of nearly a year. 

An adventure of Lewis Wetzel's, which some authorities place in 
1786, will not be out of place here. By frequent incursions upon 
the settlements, the Indians had so aroused the whites that a re- 
taliatory expedition was organized, Lewis Wetzel being one of 



252 THE WETZELS. 

the party. Scouts brought in the news that the marauders were 
too many to be attacked by them, and a council of war being 
held it was decided to return home. The party quickly prepared 
to retrace their steps, and many had already dej^arted, when the 
commander, seeing Wetzel seated carelessly on a log, with his 
gun lying across his knees, asked him if he were not going. 

" N'o," answered Lewis, with a glance of contempt at his flying 
comrades; "I came out to hunt Indians, and now that they are 
found, I am not going home until I take a scalp, unless I lose my 
own." 

Persuasions were of no use. Sullenly he sat in the same posi- 
tion on the log, waiting until the last white man was out of sight; 
then, shouldering his rifle, and assuring himself that scalping- 
knife and tomahawk were ready for use, moved off in an oppo- 
site direction, hoping to meet with a small party of Indians. Ev- 
ery precaution was taken to prevent being surprised, and every 
effort made to find any Indians that might be lurking in his 
neighborhood, but night fell, and he had not seen any. A fire 
was necessary, but he dared not let its light be seen; so he con- 
structed a small coal-pit out of bark and leaves, covered with 
loose earth, and by covering his fire and himself with his blanket, 
succeeded in keeping warm without endangering himself by 
showing a light. 

The next day better success attended him, for he found, to- 
wards evening, a tcnantless camp, which two blankets and a ket- 
tle showed was not deserted. The owners of these articles, he 
supposed, were out hunting. Hiding himself in the thick under- 
growth, he patiently awaited their return. They came in about 
sunset, and about nine or ten o'clock, one of them, shouldering 
his rifle, started out to attend to a deer trap that he had set. 
Impatiently Lewis awaited his return, but dawn drew near, and 
he was unfortunately obliged to leave the camp with only one 
scalp. This was taken without difficulty, as he crept to the side 
of the sleeper and with one blow sent his scalping knife through 
the heart of the savage. Beturning, he reached the settlement 
one day after his companions had arrived there. 

On one occasion he determined to go on a fall hunt into the 
Indian country. Penetrating as far as the Muskingum, he came 
upon a camp containing four Indians. Only a moment's hesita- 
tion as to whether he should attack such a party, and he deter- 
mined to take the risk. Creeping cautiously to a covert near the 



THE WETZELS. 253 

camp, whence he could see every movement of his enemies as 
they moved about the fii-e, he waited until all were asleep. Si- 
lently leaving his hiding place, he stood in the midst of the un- 
conscious Indians. Crash! went the tomahawk, and the skull of 
one, and almost in the same instant, of a second, he had laid open. 
The noise of the blows, slight though it was, had awakened a 
third, who had scarcely struggled to his feet before he shared the 
fate of his comrades. The fourth was more fortunate, for he es- 
caped by flight. 

"Did you have any luck?" inquired a friend, on his return 
from this '' hunt." 

"Not much," replied Lewis, "I tree'd four Indians, but one 
got away." 

In 1789, a fort had been erected where Marietta now stands, 
and its commander, G-en. Harmar, was very anxious to make a 
treaty with the Indians. For this purpose he sent messengers 
with a white flag to the nearest Indian tribes, to invite them to 
the fort, that he might treat with them. With great difficulty 
were they finally persuaded to lay aside their distrust of the 
"Long-knives," and accept the invitation. 

In order to slightly understand what followed, we must remem- 
ber the spirit which then animated the whites in the wars against 
the Indians. Such were the treachery and the cruelty of the sav- 
ages that the white men felt it must be a war of extermination. 
Of course the soldiers sent here, who had been used to dealing 
with a diff'erent foe, did not appreciate this feeling of the men 
born in forts and grown up through a series of sieges, but en- 
deavored to deal with the Indians as they were accustomed to 
treat more open and honorable enemies. The frontiersmen 
would not put any faith in an Indian's word, and not believing 
that the savages would keep treaties, were themselves by no 
no means backward in violating such engagements. When, 
therefore. Gen. Harmar succeeded in persuading tho Indians to 
come to the fort, Lewis Wetzel recognized it as an excellent op- 
portunity for fresh triumphs over his enemies. 

With a companion nearly as daring as himself, he, according 
to the plan which they agreed upon, found a spot which would 
answer for their purpose, and lying here in ambush, they shot at 
an Indian who rode by at full speed. He did not fall, and they 
thought that Hie shot had missed him. It was known among 
their neighbors on what errand Wetzel and his companion had 



254 THE WETZELS. 

gone, and on their return they were questioned as to their suc- 
cess. They did not dream that the Indian had been seriously 
hurt, but he was mortally wounded, and, riding into the fort, died 
that night. Rumor soon informed Gen. Harmar who had killed 
him, and he despatched a party of men to take Wetzel, dead or 
alive. Such was the anger of his neighbors, however, that they 
resolved to form an ambuscade and kill the soldiers who should 
attempt to take Lewis. Happily the commander of the force was 
persuaded to return without making the desperate attempt, and 
Lewis considered the whole thing disposed of to the satisfaction 
of all concerned. 

Shortly afterward, however, he found that Gen. Harmar was by 
no means of the same opinion, for while at the house of a friend 
he was surprised, captured and taken to the fort, where he Avas 
loaded with irons. To the liberty-loving woodsman, this confine- 
ment was as intolerable as the disgrace of being treated like a 
criminal. Chafing under the restraint, he sent for Gen. Harmar, 
who speedily came. 

"Don't hang me up like a dog," he said; "if you don't want 
to let me go, put me in the middle of a jjarty of Indians armed 
with scalping knives and tomahawks ; give me a tomahawk and 
let me fight it out with them." 

Gen. Harmar, with lofty dignity, replied that he must act in 
conformity with the law of which he was an officer, and which 
did not allow him to make such a compromise, and the poor pris- 
oned woodsman was once more left to himself. ]^ot many days 
had passed before he again sent for the .commander. 

" I've never been used to keeping so close in the house, and I 
cannot live much longer shut up here without exercise," he com- 
plained. 

Accordingly, the guard was ordered to knock the fetters off", 
leaving only the handcuff's, and to permit him to walk about on 
the point at the mouth of the Muskingum. Loosed from the fet- 
ters, that had weighed on his heart no less heavily than on his 
limbs, and breathing the free air of heaven once more, he frol- 
icked about like a young deer released from a trap. Starting 
suddenly away from them, as if to escape, he would run a few 
yards and then return to the guards that accompanied him out- 
side the fort. This was repeated several times, the distance on 
each run being a little greater, until, his guards having become 
used to it, he ran nearly a hundred yards before they discovered 



"thb WETZELSL' 



'265 



^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 



^^:^^^^^SS«<i^>««^S4%^# 'V"// ■/■■/'/////'/'/"/'//////'///////'; 




WETZEL 8 ESCAPE PROM THE GUARD. 



256 THE WETZELS. 

that he was really attempting to escape. They fired, but missed 
their aim, and he soon outran those pursuing him. 

He knew the country well, and could thus readily elude the 
less skilled woodsmen. Making for a dense thicket two or three 
miles from the fort, he squeezed under a log, and lay there cov- 
ered by the thick brush, safe from discovery, even when two 
keen-eyed Indians stood upon the log under which he lay. Gradu- 
ally the footsteps of his pursuers died away, their cries were lost 
in the distance, and as night came on, he found himself alone in 
the thicket. But on this side of the Ohio, he had no friend on 
whom he could rely, and, handcuffed as he was, he could not 
swim across it. Creeping cautiously down to the river, he saw, 
at the opposite side, an acquaintance in a canoe, fishing. Gently 
splashing in the water, he succeeded in gaining this man's atten- 
tion, and was by him ferried ever the river. Once on the Yir- 
ginia side, he was in the midst of devoted admirers and friends, 
who would die for him before they would allow him to be retaken. 

Gen. Harmar, however, was not so easily discouraged, but years 
afterward ofl^ered a reward for Lewis Wetzel, dead or alive. 
Zeal for the execution of the law, however, was confined to his 
breast, for no one claimed the reward, although many could 
have captured him. 

Not long after his return he was invited to accompany a rela- 
tive to his home on Dunkard Creek. Accepting the invitation, 
they reached their destination only to find the house a heap of 
smoking ruins. Wetzel declared the trail to indicate that the 
marauders were three Indians and a white man, and that they had 
carried off one captive. This was the betrothed of the host, and 
he insisted upon following them immediately. Wetzel, nothing 
loath, assented, and they pushed on, hoping to overtake the ma- 
rauders before they reached the Ohio. Despite the pains which 
had been taken to hide the trail and deceive the pursuers, Wet- 
zel, guessing what course they had taken, took a bee-line for the 
point at which he thought they would aim. Night came on, but 
still they continued their journey, guided by the light of the 
moon, until midnight; then this help failed them, and they rested 
for the few remaining hours of the night. At dawn they were 
again upon their way, and late in the afternoon saw, among other 
fresh footsteps in the sand, the print of a little shoe, evidently of 
a white woman. Just at dark, they discovered the encampment 
upon the opposite side of the river. Swimming the stream, they 



THE WETZELS. 257 

made sure of the position of the captive, and several other points 
about the camp; but although the frantic lover urged an immedi- 
ate attack, Wetzel insisted upon postponing it until morning. 

At dawn the savages were preparing to continue their journey, 
when two rifles were fired from the thicket, at the same instant, 
with fatal effect; one shot killing an Indian, one the renegade 
white man. The lover sprang forward into the camp as soon as 
he had fired, to release the captive, and Wetzel pursued the two 
Indians into the woods. Firing his rifle at random, they rushed 
toward him before he could reload, as they thought, but the gun 
was already prepared for execution, and its contents sent into 
the body of the nearest pursuer. Loading as he ran, he again 
wheeled and fired, and the last of the party lay dead before him. 

In 1790, a dense forest of maple and beech covered much of 
the ground now occupied by Cincinnati, the town extending 
about two blocks along the river front from Main Street to 
Broadway. One early October day Jacob Wetzel had gone 
hunting, and had met with great success. His load of game was 
too heavy for his own shoulders, and he had started to the town 
to borrow a horse. But, tired and warm, he sat down to rest 
upon a tempting log by the river side, near the mouth of Mill 
Creek. Suddenly he heard a rustling in the trees near him. 
His faithful dog gave a low growl, and then was silent at his 
master's gesture of command. Springing behind a tree Wetzel 
made ready to fire upon the game or the enemy, as the case 
might be. A glance from his shelter showgd him a burly In- 
dian, likewise shielded by a tree. A loud bark from the dog 
told the savage that he was discovered, and raising his rifle he 
fired. But Wetzel had been a little too quick ; the white man 
fired first and his ball struck the Indian's left arm, breaking 
it near the elbow; and Wetzel was unhurt. 

Regardless of the pain, the Indian endeavored to reload, but 
Wetzel sprang upon him with his knife. With lightning rapid- 
ity the Indian changed his purpose, and parried his enemy's 
first stroke with his own blade. More than that, the shock 
threw Wetzel's weapon far out of reach. Though thus unarm- 
ed, the scout was not helpless. Throwing himself upon the sav- 
age, ho seized the dusky right arm, so that the knife was useless 
to his enemy. The Indian, however, was worthy to contend 
with a Wetzel. For a monient they swayed back and forth in 
this close embrace; then, as their feet became interlocked, fell 



258 



THE WETZELS. 



to the earth, the Indian uppermost. But "Wetzel was indomit- 
able. By one mighty effort he forced the Indian over on his 
right side, so that he had no use of either arm. 

Had Wetzel been armed, the contest would now have been 
decided; but in his efforts to gain possession of the savage's 
knife, he relaxed his grasp; and the muscular redskin was again 
uppermost. The white man lay upon the ground, the Indian's 
knee upon his breast, the Indian's eyes gleaming with deadly 




JACOB WETZEL SAVED BY HIS DOG. 



hate above him as the knife was raised high for a deadlier blow. 
One instant more, and it would have been sheathed in his heart. 
Suddenly the hunter's dog sprang at his master's triumphant 



THE POES. 259 

foe, seizing him by the throat. The knife fell from the Indian's 
hand, almost within Wetzel's grasp. Wrenching himself free, 
the white man seized the weapon, and the contest was no longer 
doubtful. 

Securing the Indian's scalp and weapons, the hunter went on 
his way; but before he was well out of sight of the spot, he 
heard the whooping of a considerable number of Indians. Eun- 
ning to the river, he was lucky enough to find a canoe, in which 
he made his way to town. The savage had been one of the 
bravest and most famous chiefs of his tribe. 

Lewis Wetzel has been called the Boone of West Virginia, but 
the title can hardly be allowed. Boone is the typo of the fron- 
tiersman whose name is known to history as the father of a set- 
tlement; Lewis Wetzel is famous in tradition as a wild borderer. 
Both classes of characters were necessary to the establishment 
and preservation of settlements ; the wilder, more unsettled In- 
dian fighter roaming the country, and giving information of dan- 
ger to the men in the forts. It is true that Boone did not have 
much of this assistance ; Boonesborough was too far in the van 
of the army of pioneers. Still, the difference in the stability of 
character remains ; but however unknown to graver history may 
be the names of the Wetzels, the traditions respecting them will 
long linger around the places that they have defended from the 
incursions of the Indians. 

■THE POES. 

Whether it is due to the character of the settlers, whether we 
possess larger stores of information regarding them, or whethei- 
the Indians made a more . determined stand there than any 
where else, the State of Kentucky and its near neighbors seem to 
possess more traditions of border adventure than any others. 
Perhaps that sectional pride which in New England has pre^ 
served, and, it is hinted, multiplied the relics of the Mayflower, 
and which in Virginia delights in the magic letters " F. F. V.," 
here preserves the stories of adventure — we cannot tell. The 
fact remains, be the explanation what it may, that this re- 
gion would seem to well deserve its name of " The Dark and 
Bloody Ground." 

Among the heroes of the border whose names are associated 
with the same time and place that knew the Wetzels, were two 
17 



260 THE POES. 

brothers, Adam and Andrew Poe. The adventure of the latter 
with two Indians is a story often told, but which will bear one 
more repetition. In the spring of 1781, the Indians had made 
several raids upon the white settlements in what is now Wash- 
ington Conntj^, Pennsylvania, but was then a part of Virginia. 
This was the home of both the Poes, and of many a brave bor- 
derer besides, and none were inclined to tolerate these inroads. 
A woman and a child had been murdered, an old man carried 
off as a prisoner, and excited by such outrages, it was not many 
hours before the whole settlement was ready to pursue the sav- 
ages. Twelve men on horseback set out to follow the trail, but 
were soon compelled to dismount. Andy's experienced eye de- 
tected that the Indians were not far off, and begged his compan- 
ions to be quiet, so that the savages would not be provoked into 
killing their prisoner. His request was disregarded, and he left 
the company, going directly to the bank of the river. He had 
not gone far before he saw the Indian canoes at the water's edge, 
and not seeing any Indians, went cautiously down the bank, with 
his rifle cocked. When about half-way down, he saw two Wyan- 
dots, standing below within a few feet, looking in the direction 
of the party that he had left. One was gigantic in size; far larger 
than Poe, who was remarkable for his stature and strength; the 
other was small; both were fully armed, and had their guns 
cocked. Retreat was imj)ossible, and, hastily deciding that he 
would kill the big Indian and take the little one a prisoner, Poe 
took aim. His gun missed fire. Thus betrayed to the savages, 
he concealed his exact position by hiding in the thick bushes for 
a moment, until the larger party overtook five other Indians, 
who, with the prisoner, were farther down the stream. Creeping 
to the very edge of the bank, he again pointed his rifle at the big 
Indian, but for a second time it failed him. Dropping the rifle, 
he sprang upon them. They had wheeled around when his gun 
snapped, but had not had time even to raise their rifles before 
the struggle commenced. Catching each around the neck, and 
throwing his weight suddenly upon the larger of the two, Big- 
foot, he drew both to the ground with him. 

As they fell, in their surprise both Indians dropped their guns, 
and their other arms, fortunately for Poe, were all on the canoes. 
Andrew had only his scalping-knife, but it was hard to rea-ch in 
his present position. Bigfoot lay flat on his back upon the ground ; 
Poe had fallen with his left side upon him ; while slightly be- 



262 THE POES. 

hind the white man, to his right, was the little Indian ; each of 
the three struggling for dear life. Poe made several eiforts to 
get at his knife, in order to despatch the warrior under him, 
but Bigfoot, catching his hand, held it in an iron grasp, talking 
all the while, in his own language, to his comrade. Suddenly 
his grasp was relaxed, and the knife, coming out of the scab- 
bard with unexpected ease, flew out of Andrew's hand. At the 
same time, the little Indian jerked his head from under his cap- 
tor's arm, and sprang to the canoes. Bigfoot, thus left alone 
with his enemy, threw his long arms about him and held him 
tight until the return of the little Indian with a tomahawk. The 
savage took aim, but just as the tomahawk was about to leave his 
hand, a well directed kick from Poe upon his wrist sent the mis- 
sile flying into the river. A furious yell expressed Bigfoot's an- 
ger at the little Indian, who had thus allowed himself to be de- 
feated, and who now returned to the canoes for another weapon. 
The second efl'ort bade fair to be more successful. Approach- 
ing the prostrate, struggling men, the little Indian engaged in a 
series of feints, intended to divert Poe's attention from his real 
object. Poe was on the alert, however, and saw through his 
maneuvers. At last the real blow was struck, aimed at his head ; 
but throwing up his arm, he received the blow upon his right 
wrist; the tomahawk, glancing off, flew over his head. The little 
Indian regained his weapon, and was advancing the third time to 
the attack, when Poe, wrenching himself from Bigfoot's grasp by 
a powerful effort, caught hold of a gun and shot him. The more 
powerful antagonist now remained to be disposed of, nor was this 
an easy task to the wounded white man. Bigfoot had regained 
his feet as soon as Poe, and the little Indian's body had not fallen 
before he caught Andrew by a shoulder and a leg to throw him 
into the river. Poe was on his guard against such an attempt, 
and grasped the Indian's neck so tightly, just as he was in the 
act of throwing, that both went together into the water. Here, 
each had the same object in view — to drown the other ; and the 
struggle was long and fierce. Carried out farther and farther 
into the stream, now one, now the other had been uppermost, 
holding his antagonist under the water, until they were full thirty 
yards from the shore. At last Poe seized the tuft of hair on the 
crown of the Indian's head, and kept him under water until he 
thougiit he was dead. Exhausted with the loss of blood from 
his wound, and with the long struggle, he released his hold and 



THE Po:i:s. 



263 



Swam with his left arm toward shore. But Bigfoot had been 
"playing possum," and now, escaped from Andrew's grasp, made 
for dry land. It was a race to see which should first gain posses- 
sion of the one loaded rifle which lay upon the bank. Poe, dis- 
abled by his wound, could swim but slowly, and Bigfoot gained 
the coveted prize. But the gun was uncocked, and in attempt- 
ing to cock it in haste, he injured the lock. The other was un- 
loaded, as its contents had killed the little Indian. 

Adam Poe, having heard the discharge of the rifle which An- 
drew had fired, now came to the assistance of his brother; his gun, 
however, was unloaded, as he had fired at one of the other party 
of Indians. The victory now belonged to the one who could first 
load. Luckily for the brothers, the Indian drew the ramrod too 
hastily from the thimbles of the stock, and it fell a short distance 
from him. He quickly regained it, but too late j the momentary 
delay was fatal to him, in giving his enemy the slight advantage 
he desired. Adam took deadly aim and shot him dead. 

Immediately Adam jumped into the river to help his brother, 
who was almost fainting, to shore. But if the flesh was weak, 
the spirit was still strong. 

"Let me alone," cried Andrew; "I'll get out. Get his scalp 
before he rolls into the river." 

But his brother's life was an object of more interest to Adam 
than any scalj^ he could take, and despite Andrew's protests, the 
dying Indian, jealous of his honor even in the agonies of death, 
was allowed to reach the river and get into^ the current. His 
body was carried off, and his scalp, that pride and ornament of 
the warrior, never fell into the hands of his enemies. 

While this desperate contest was going on, the main body of 
tho whites had overtaken the Indian party, recaptured the pris- 
oner, and with the loss of one of their number, slain all but one 
of their enemies. Attracted by the sounds of the Poes' fight, 
they came to the tardy relief of the brothers; but, mistaking 
Andrew, who was still in the water, for a wounded Indian, one 
of them fired and hurt him severely in the shoulder. He re- 
covered from his injuries, however, and lived for many years ; 
telling over and over, in his old age, the story of this desperate 
encounter. 

Bigfoot and his four brothers, all killed in this fight, were war- 
riors of high repute among the Wyandots, and their death was a 
severe loss to the tribe. Despite their well known lenity to the 



264 MAJOR SAM MCCULLOCH. 

whites, they were by no means disposed to forgive this injury. 
A warrior was despatched to avenge his kinsmen, but returned 
without executing his purpose. 

MAJOR SAM MCCULLOCH. 

But these were not the only heroes of the time, nor the only 
exploits. Selecting from a mass of interesting traditions those 
most striking, we find the scene is laid at a rude frontier fort 
near Wheeling. The capital of West Virginia was then a little 
village, containing not more than twenty-five rude log huts, and 
Fort Henry, a quarter of a mile away, was its defense. In its 
early days it was invested by a force of Indians, four hundred 
strong. The terrified settlers fled to the fort, there to defend 
themselves and their families. Of the forty -two men, twenty-six 
had fallen before the siege was well begun, and help was neces- 
sary. Messengers had safely reached the neighboring settlements, 
and one little party of fifteen fought its way into the fort with- 
out the loss of a man. But now they descry a throng of horse- 
men approaching, numbering more than their whole force — it is 
Major McCulloch, the famous ranger, with forty followers. The 
Indians are thick around the band, but before them are the gates 
of the fort, opened to receive them, and they fight desperatelj^- 
More than one Indian warrior bites the dust before them, and at 
last they dash triumphantly into the fort. 

But one, the commander himself, has been cut oif ; a hundred 
Indians are between McCulloch and the station j a host who know 
so well the injuries which his daring courage has before inflicted 
upon their race, that they are determined to take him alive, and 
inflict the most exquisite tortures they can devise upon their en- 
emy. He finds it useless to try to gain the walls of the fort, and 
knowing that his life depends upon the speed of his horse, rides 
away, pursued in hot haste. Before him, beside him, behind him, 
throng an innumerable host of red-skins; on one side only there 
are none — it is the brink of a precipice, one hundred and fifty feet 
above the river. A moment he halts j the Indians have not fired 
a shot, and he knows, only too well, what that means ; choosing 
to be dashed to pieces on the rocky banks of Wheeling Creek, 
rather than to undergo the tortures which await him, he drives 
his spurs into his horse, and the noble animal, as though appre- 
ciating the alternative, leaps into the yawning gulf. Down, down, 
one-half the distance, before the echoes of the triumphant shouts 



JOE LOaSTON. 



265 



3fihe Indians died away; and the horse's hoofs at last strike the 
smooth face of the rock, and, sliding and scrambling, steed and 
rider roll into the stream below. Only his own shout of triumph 
now breaks the stillness as he recovers himself and reaches the 
farther shore, for the savages stand awe-struck at the heroic dar- 
ing of the man who has escaped them. Eeturning to the siege, 
they found that Major McCulloch was not the only brave white 




Mcculloch's leap. 

man alive, for the fort was so obstinately defended that they 
were soon forced to retreat from a bootless attack. 



A SLIPPERY ANTAGONIST. 

Of all the mountaineers of early Kentucky, "Big Joe Logs- 
ton" was one of the largest and strongest, if indeed he did not 
stand first in these respects. Raised among the Alleghenies, he 
found, like many another pioneer, that he had not elbo\^-room, 
with neighbors only five or six miles away ; and when they came 
even nearer than that, he picked up his few rude belongings 
and sought the banks of Barren Eiver, where only the roving 
Indians would be his neighbors. Of these, however, he had no 
fear ; indeed, he had none in his heart for any created being. 



266 JOE LOGSTON. 

He had not been there long, before the Cherokees began their 
inroads upon the settlements. Warning was given that the sav- 
ages would soon be upon them, and much against his will, Joe 
was persuaded to take shelter within a stockade. Not for his own 
safet}'; he knew he was abundantly able to take care of himself^ 
but every man helped to strengthen the garrison. But he soon 
regretted his self-sacrifice. Being shut up within a high fence, 
waiting for Indians who would not come, was by no means to 
his taste, and he tried to persuade some of his companions to 
sally forth with him in search of adventure. Failing in this, he 
urged that they ought to go out to look after their cattle, which 
had been abandoned when they fled to the stockade; but every 
argument was in vain; they would not leave their shelter. 

If they were determined to stay, Joe was equally determined 
to go, and disgusted at their love of safety, he mounted his good 
steed and went forth alone. The cattle were not to be found, for 
the Indians were not likely to let such a prize slip out of their 
fingers. The sun had already long passed the meridian, and was 
low in the western sky. His search for cattle and adventure 
must be concluded, for he must reach the stockade before night- 
fall. Over his path hung a wild grapevine, heavily loaded ; and 
tempted by the luscious fruit, he stopped to gather a quantity. 
Every bunch within reach was secured, for it would be an eager- 
ly welcomed addition to the fare at the fort. His rifle lay across 
the pommel of his saddle, as he rode carelessly along, refreshing 
himself with the grapes. 

Suddenly two rifle shots were heard, almost at the same mo- 
ment; and as the horse fell dead beneath him, Joe felt a sting- 
ing across his chest. Leaping at once to his feet, he caught up 
his rifle, ready to defend himself. Flight might have saved him, 
for he had the reputation of being the swiftest man in that part of 
the countr}'; but he disdained to save himself by his heels while 
his rifle remained to him. Hardly had he regained his feet when 
a large, athletic Indian leaped out from the wooded shelter, di- 
rectly towards him. Aiming hastily at the advancing foe, Logs- 
Ion was about to pull the trigger, when the wily savage, seeing 
that he was discovered, jumped behind a sapling. This was 
not large enough to shelter him, however, and the nearest tree 
was of similar girth. The Indian could only dance back and 
forth between the two, to unsteady the Kentuckian's eye, until 
help should come from another direction. 



JOE LOGSTON. 267 

Keeping his eye upon the redskin dancing for dear life, Joe 
looked cautiously about him for another enemy ; for he under- 
stood why the giant savage kept in motion. He soon descried a 
second, partially sheltered behind another slender tree, on the 
other side of the woodland path. This newly discovered foe was 
evidently reloading, for a second shot at the white man. As he 
rammed home his ball, he exposed one hip; Logston instantly 
turned his rifle from the big savage, and fired. 

As he fell to the earth, his comrade uttered a wild and pierc- 
ing yell, and rushed with uplifted tomahawk upon the white 
man. The theatre of war was a natural opening in the forest, 
about forty feet in diameter. Nearly in the center stood Logston. 
He had not had time to reload, and could not now give his at- 
tention to it; the remaining enemy's every movement must be 
watched. When the savage was within fifteen feet of the white 
man, he cast his tomahawk with terrific force; but Joe had not 
watched him so narrowly for nothing. Springing lightly aside 
at the very moment the hatchet left the Indian's hand, he escap- 
ed the blow ; and the tomahawk buried itself in the earth, be- 
yond the reach of either antagonist. 

Hoping to gain a shelter where he would be able to reload, the 
Indian turned and fled to a clump of bushes bej^ond the edge of 
the clearing; after him ran his fleet-footed enemy, with rifle 
ready clubbed for the blow. But the redskin had too great a 
start in so short a race, and was in the bushes before the white 
man caught him. Hither and thither he flew, now standing erect 
a moment, then dodging a blow which must have been fatal; 
now crouching low, out of Logston's reach, then darting to an- 
other part of the thicket; while all the time the twigs and 
branches bent and rattled beneath the rifle. At last came Joe's 
golden opportunity. Gathering all his immense strength forthe 
final blow, he raised his weapon. It descended with fearful force 
— not on the Indian's shaven head and ornamented scalp-lock, as 
he had pron»ised himself, but upon the tree near which the In- 
dian had been for an instant. The rifle was broken off close by 
the barrel, and even the remaining piece flew from his hand, 
which was almost intolerably stung by the force with which he 
had dealt the blow. 

They were now more equally matched, 'for if Joe was heavy 
and strong, the Indian was lithe and active as a panther; and 
they both were without weapons, except those with which na- 



268 JOE LoasTON. 

ture had provided them. The savage, who was so encumbered 
by the brush about him that he could hardly escape by flight, 
and who, besides, desired to avenge his comrade, sprang upon 
Logston, yelling like a devil just let loose. The ball fired at the 
very beginning of the fight had ploughed its way across the 
whole expanse of Joe's broad chest, and the blood, streaming 
freely from the wound, had crimsoned the whole front of his 
buckskin hunting-shirt. The Indian, perceiving this, promised 
himself an easy victory, as his antagonist must soon be weakened 
by the loss of so much blood. 

The giant enemies grappled, but each found that victory would 
be less easy to gain than he had thought. Logston's strength 
and endurance disappointed the savage; while the white man 
found his opponent as hard to hold as ever was an eel or a 
greased pig. His supple body, naked from the waist up, and but 
scantily clothed below, had been thoroughly anointed with 
bear's-grease; and he readily slipped away whenever the white 
man made an effort to throw him. 

For some time they wrestled thus, the Indian coming up "fresh 
and smiling" at the end of every round. Joe found that he must 
soon put an end to this, or he would be breathless. An instant 
the two foes stood glaring at each other; then, as if at a pre-ar- 
ranged signal, bo h sprang forward at once. Again they grap- 
pled, but this time Logston made no attempt to hold his slipper- 
antagonist down. Jumping back a foot or so, he allowed the 
breathless savage to regain his feet. As he staggered forward, 
not yet having fully recovered his balance, Logston dealt him a 
tremendous blow full between the eyes. The savage again fell 
sprawling, but not yet ready to give up the contest, sprang to his 
feet, only to find his enemy's fist again in close proximity to his 
face. After many such bouts, the Kentuckian dealt him a blow 
on the side of the head which completely " laid him out." 

Springing upon the prostrate body of the insensible savage, 
one knee planted on the dusky breast, Logston gripped his ene- 
my's throat as with a hand of iron. A little while, and the end 
would have come to the conflict. 

But the Indian was tougher than he had thought; he had re- 
gained consciousness when Logston first sprang upon him. The 
white man was wholly unarmed, but, swung to the red man's belt, 
was a knife in a close-fitting sheath. So tight a fit was it, indeed, 
and so long the sheath, that he must get it out by gently pushing 



JOE LOGSTON. 



269 



at the point. At this he was now working; but it must be done 
so slowly and quietly as not to attract his foe's attention. 

Yain hope, Cherokee! The pale-faced giant above you has felt 
the slight quivering of your body as you move your arm, and has 
looked down to see the cause. He makes no movement until the 
handle of the knife protrudes from the deep sheath ; then, with 
lightning-like rapidity bedashes away the dusky hand that would 
have grasped the weapon, seizes it himself, and plunges it deep 
into the heart of his prostrate foe. 




t^^'MM^ ' 



AN Indian's first introduction to the manly art. 

Meanwhile, what had become of the other Indian? Had his 
wounds proved fatal, or had he taken himself off to secure assis- 
tance? This was a question which demanded an immediate answer, 
and Joe lost no time in trying to find out. Ho found him desper- 
ately hurt, but not so near death but what he still thought of re- 
venge. His back had been brbkon by the ball, but, propping 
himself up against a tree-trunk, he would try to raise the gun 
loaded at such a fearful cost to himself; but the effort would bo 
too much, and he would again fall forward. 

Perceiving that there was nothing to be feared from him, Log- 
ston left him and proceeded to the fort, which he was anxious to 



270 JOE LOGSTON. 

reach before dark, us he was without arras, and there was no tell- 
ing how many Indians might be prowling about the woods. 
Making the best of his way thither, without horse, hat or gun, 
as he was, and covered from head to foot with blood and dirt, he 
was received with wonder, sympathy and admiration. 

The next day a party was made up to visit the scene of the 
combat, with a view, doubtless, to securing the scalps of the two 
Indians; for the white men, as we have already seen, had adopt- 
ed this barbarous practice of mutilating their dead enemies. 
Then, too, Logston's story was so wonderful that they wanted 
some proof. Arrived at the clearing, the body of the dead horse 
was the only visible sign of the combat that had taken place; 
but a diligent search revealed a trail, along which something 
had been dragged. Following this up, they came upon the body 
of the big Indian, lying beside a log, and nearly covered with 
dead leaves. Near him his knife had been driven into the ground, 
and stamped down by a naked heel. A hundred yards farther 
on, they found the body of the Indian whose back had been 
broken, his own knife driven in his breast to the hilt. He had, 
with'almost incredible exertion, considering his condition, bu- 
ried his fallen friend as well as his strength would permit, and 
then, finding his sufferings no longer supportable, crawled away 
to end them by death. 

But, fortunate Indian fighter as he had shown himself, Big Joe 
Losrston was not destined to fall in combat with the red man. 
Peace was declared soon after this, and for several j'ears there 
were no Indian depredations in that part of the country. In- 
stead, white marauders infested the region, and it was in a fight 
with these that Logston was killed, four or five years after the 
fight with his slippery antagonist. 



CHAPTER X. 



THE CEAWFOED EXPEDITION. 

THE conversion of the Indians to Christianity had long been 
a favorite missionary project when, in 1752, a Pennsylvanian 
society was established for that purpose by the Moi-avians. The 
work prospered, and in less than thirty years there were three 
colonies of converted Delawares located on the banks of the 
Muskingum at Guadenhutten, Salem and Shoenbrun. During the 
many wars which had taken place since the beginning of the 
movement, these Christian Indians had never faltered in their 
love of peace ; and they had frequently given information of the 
movements planned by hostile tribes, thus enabling the whites 
to prepare for defense. They aimed to be neutral in the strife 
then raging on the borders, but this course excited the suspicion 
of both parties. The warlike red men, preparing for a foray, 
would stop at the Moravian settlements and help themselves to 
food, ammunition and whatever else they needed. The peaceful 
Delawares were powerless to prevent this, but the whites re- 
garded them as willing agents. Thus they were literally be- 
tween two fires. 

At last the whites resolved that this was unbearable, and in 
the fall of 1781 upwards of three hundred Delaware warriors 
were taken to Detroit and kept prisoners all the winter. They 
had hardly been released early in the spring, -^hen a series of out- 
rages began. So hard had been the winter and so distant were 
the towns of the hostile Indians that the settlers were convinced 
of the guilt of the Moravians. An expedition against them set 
out in March, 1872, and by treachery as great as any Indian's, 
succeeded in slaughtering ninety-six men, women and children. 
The success of this force led to the formation of a larger one, 
which was first to destroy the Moravian Indians, and then pro- 
ceed against their near neighbors, the more warlike and hostile 

Wyandots. 

271 



272 THE CRAWFORD EXPEDITION. 

The commandants of the militia of Washington and Westmore- 
land Counties, Pennsylvania, made every effort to induce the 
settlers to join this expedition, and nearlj'' five hundred men as- 
sembled at the Old Mingo towns towards the end of May, each 
armed, mounted and provided with rations for a month. Among 
the volunteers was Col. William Crawford, a Yirginian who had 
served with some distinction in the Revolution, the friend of 
Washington from boyhood, and intimately associated with him 
in early and later manhood. Though opposed to some of the ob- 
jects of the campaign, he had been persuaded to accompany it, 
and his son, son-in-law and two nephews were also of the party. 
When the election for officers took place. Col. Crawford was 
made the commander of the entire force. 

Setting out from the rendezvous. May 25th, and pursuing the 
same trail followed by the smaller force of March, the troops 
reached the Moravian towns only to find them deserted. At the 
instance of the more warlike Dclawares, their peaceful brethren 
bad moved to Scioto, and were safe from at least one enemy, un- 
der the proteclion of the other. 

Thus foiled, the troops were undecided what course should be 
taken. A council of war was called, and it was resolved to keep 
on the path they were then pursuing, but to turn back the next 
day if no Indians should have been found. Hardly had this de- 
termination been announced by the officers, when a message was 
received from a detachment that had been sent forward to recon- 
noiter. A large body of Indians was approaching them rapidly, 
and was now but three miles away. For the first time the whites 
realized that every movement had been watched and understood 
by the savages, who were now prepared to resent this invasion 
of their tei-ritory. 

The news was received with joy by the troops, and hastily 
they prepared for battle. Moving rapidly forward, they soon 
met the reconnoitering party coming in, and it was but a little 
while longer before they came in sight of the enemy. The plain 
that stretched before them was a natural battle-field, its smooth 
and grassy surface unbroken by hill or ravine, almost the only 
shelter a small grove nearly in the midst. This the Indians were 
trying to gain, and indeed a small party of them had done so, 
when the whites came up. Knowing how great would be the ad- 
vantage of this shelter, the whites opened a heavy fire upon the 
Indians who were still exposed; and although those who had 



THE CRAWFORD EXPEDITION. 273 

gained the woods annoyed them very much, the troops succeed- 
ed in their purpose. But the savages, thus protected, were too 
dangerous an enemy to leave alone ; and a detachment of troops 
were dismounted and ordered to dislodge them. Dashing forward 
upon the woods, there was a short, fierce encounter; then the 
redskins, seeing the determination with which their enemies 
fought, wisely retreated to the main body of Indians. 

The fight lasted the remainder of the day, and was hotly con- 
tested by both sides ; but no special instance of valor has been 
handed down to us. Night fell, and the two armies rested on 
their arms, waiting for daylight to continue the battle. Fearful 
of being surprised by a night attack, both camps had been sur- 
rounded by a line of large fires, and the men lay some distance 
within this outer circle. All night long, reinforcements poured 
into the Indian camp j and, when morning came, their force, 
which had been far superior to the whites when the fight began, 
had been more than doubled. This was perceived by the whites, 
and in a council of war held on the morning after the fight (June 
6th) it was decided to retreat to the settlements. This was of 
course impossible in open day, in the face of a superior force, so 
they determined to put their plan into operation as soon as night 
should enable them to do so. 

The bodies of the dead were buried, and fires kindled over 
their graves, that the Indians might not suspect these spots as 
the last resting-places of their enemies. Litters where made for 
the wounded, and the army drawn up in order for the retreat. 
Hither and thither the Indians had been seen riding over the 
plain during the day, as if to tempt the whites from their camp. 
Not until the line of march was formed did they seem to have 
any idea of what was being done. Hastily they decided upon 
their course, and began to block the passes. When the troops 
were ready to move, only one path was available — that leading 
to Sandusky. Along this route they marched as rajiidly as pos- 
sible, the savages pursuing in hot haste. About a mile from the 
battle-field the whites left this trail, and turning suddenly to the 
left, regained that which they hud followed when in search of 
the Indians, hoping to reach Fort Mcintosh. Supposing that the 
main body Avould be hotly pursued, and at last destroyed, many 
small parties struck off in different directions, hoping to reach 
their homes in safety. The Indians had anticipated this, and 
leaving the main body to itself, pursued the detachments. With 



274 THE CRAWFORD EXPEDITION. 

the single exception of Capt. "Williamson's company, forty men 
strong, these all met the fate which they strove to avoid ; and 
these only escaped by rejoining the main force. 

They had not gone far when Col. Crawfo'rd missed those mem- 
bers of his family who had accompanied the expedition, and, in 
the eifort to find them, allowed the whole army to pass him. 
Prom this time forward, we leave the main body to escape to 
Fort Mcintosh without further loss, and follow the fortunes of 
the commander and his immediate companions. Failing to find 
the young men, he, in company with Dr. Knight and two others, 
resolved to cut across the country to the same point for which 
the others were aiming J hoping that a shorter path would en- 
able them to reach it in safety. Many others entertained similar 
hopes, and they met two small parties each of two men. One of 
these, Lieut. Ashly, had been so severely wounded that he could 
not, unassisted, sit his horse; and his friend, Capt. Biggs, was de- 
laying his own retreat to assist him. The old chroniclers barely 
mention this fact, without enlarging upon the generosity and 
self-sacrifice; perhaps the sequel of the story shows better than 
words of praise how noble was the action of this soldier of the 
border. 

"With horses almost exhausted by the hard service, they toiled 
onward until late at night, when, in the midst of a driving rain" 
they halted for a few hour's rest. The bark which they stripped 
from the trees formed their only shelter, nor dared they kindle 
a fire to cook their food ; but they were not exposed to the fury 
of the storm, and the short rest enabled them to proceed with 
new energy at dawn. Col. Crawford and Dr. Knight formed the 
advance, about a hundred yards in front, and on foot, as their 
horses were quite unfit for further service; Capt. Biggs and Lieut. 
Ashly came next, and in the rear came the others, now number- 
ing but two. 

They had gone barely two miles, when from the brush sprang 
a party of Dclawares, hideous in war-paint. Seizing Col. Craw- 
ford and Dr. Knight, they carried their prisoners to acampnear 
by, whence they were taken to the old "Wyandot town. Before 
leaving the encampment, however, another party of Indians 
brought in two scalps, which the captives recognized as those of 
Capt, Biggs and the friend whom he had tried to save. 

Col. Crawford and Dr. Knight were painted black, an ominous 
sign to those versed in Indian customs; and preceded by nine 



THE CRAWFORD EXPEDITION. 275 

other prisoners, were marched oif to the new town, escorted by- 
Captain PijDe and Wingenum, two of the princijDal chiefs of the 
Delawares. One after another the nine were tomahawked and 
scalped, their mangled bodies left bleeding by the wayside, that 
the two survivers might see them. They were in momentary ex- 
pectation of sharing this fate when they met Simon Girty and 
several Indians, the whole party being mounted. 

We turn aside a moment to note the former history of the 
" white savage," whose earnest but useless endeavor to save an 
old comrade-in-arms we have already described. Simon Girty the 
elder, a wretch notorious for his drunkenness and brutality, was 
killed in 1756, in a quarrel with a pot-companion, his son of the 
same name being then fourteen. The same year his wife was 
killed by the Senecas, and the two boys, Simon and James, car- 
ried off into captivity. Given up by this tribe in accordance with 
the treaty which closed the war, he escaped and returned to the 
wild life of his adopted people, but was again compelled to leave 
them. During Dunmore's War, he was a spy and scout in the 
service of the colony, he and Simon Kenton, then called Butler, 
being constant companions. Afterward acting as Indian agent 
and interpreter, he became acquainted with Col. Crawford and 
his family. Aspiring to the hand of Miss Crawford, his suit was 
rejected, and it was not until 1783 that he found a wife in a cap- 
tive taken by the Shawnees from Detroit. 

When the Eevolution began, Girty was an officer of militia, 
stationed at Fort Pitt, but in 1778, for some lyaknown reason, de- 
serted to the British ; tradition tells of a beating from a superior 
when the scout demanded his pay, long overdue, during Dun- 
more's War ; and of a junior in the Continental Army being pre- 
ferred for promotion. The latter looks the more probable, being- 
nearer the time ; but whatever the reason, the fact remains that 
he joined the British, then passed to their allies, the Indians. AVo 
have seen him leading them in the attack upon Bryant's Station ; 
we shall now see what influence he possessed over their cvilpas- 
sions. 

The two prisoners, with this added guard, were conducted to 
Sandusky. On the route, Girty avoided any private talk with 
Col. Crawford, but when they had arrived at their destination 
the officer requested an interview. He was conducted to the 
renegade's cabin by a guard of savages, and the conference began. 
Girty assured Col. Crawford in the warmest terms of hisfriend- 
18 



276 



THE CRAWFORD EXPEDITION. 



ship, lamenting that Captain Pipe and other leading men of the 
tribe should be so greatly enraged at the commander of the 
troops, but adding a promise to save him if possible. The cap- 
tive V7as led back to his companion, and the treacherous white 
savage sought out his Indian brethren, only to paint in the 
blackest colors the character of the man whom he had promised 
to save. Thus were avenged "the pangs of misprized love." 

Girty might have saved the captives, had he pled for them as 
he once pled for Kenton j but now they were, at his instigation, 
doomed to death. Stripped naked, severely beaten with every 
weapon that warriors or squaws could lay their hands on. Col. 




THE DEATH TORTURES OF COL. WILLIAM CRAWFORD. 



Crawford was made to sit down near a post, which had just been 
set in the ground. His hands were securely bound behind his 
back, and he was tied to the post by a rope just long enough to 
allow him to walk twice around the post, when he must unwind 
the rope by retracing his steps. Around him in a circle which 
he could not reach, were heaped brush, poles and every sort of 
inflammable stuff. Girty sat on his horse a short distance off, 
watching the proceedings. 

"Girty," called the victim to him, "is it possible that I have 



THE CRAWFORD EXPEDITION. 277 

been spared the tomahawk and scalping knife, only to be burn- 
ed alive ?" 

"Yes, Colonel," replied the fiend, coolly; "you must be burned." 

" I will endeavor to bear it patiently," returned the soldier." 

The circle of brush was soon in a blaze, but the wretched suf- 
ferer could not end his life by throwing himself into the flames. 
Terrible as such a death is, it was better than the tortures which 
now awaited him. The warriors, filling their guns with loose 
powder, fired upon him, the burning powder scorching and 
searing the skin off his whole body; then, catching up the burn- 
ing poles, they prodded him with the blazing ends; while the 
squaws, as devilish in their cruelty as their lords and masters, 
cast the embers and coals into the circle beneath his feet. Mean- 
while Captain Pipe continued to address them in the Indian 
language, unintelligible to the victim and to Dr. Knight, an en- 
forced spectator. Yells and whoops answered him, as the sav- 
ages redoubled their efforts. 

Maddened by the torture, yet uttering no groan or word of 
complaint, the wretched victim of these fiends paced ceaselessly 
about the stake to which he was secured. Only once he paused, 
and then to appeal to the inhuman wretch of his own people, who 
sat enjoying the horrible spectacle. He had then endured it for 
full three hours. 

" Girty, Girty, shoot me through the heart ! Do not refuse me! 
Quick, quick !" 

"Why, Colonel, don't you see I have no gun?" answered the 
monster, as with a loud and mocking laugh he turned away for 
a moment. 

Faint and exhausted the sufferer commended his soul to God, 
and lying down upon his face prayed for a speedy release. 
Dashing aside the coals where he lay, a warrior secured his 
scalp ; a squaw then heaped the coals upon his back and head. 
Aroused from half unconsciousness by the new pain, he got up 
and staggerd onward in that seemingly endless round. The war- 
rior who had scalped him held the bloody trophy on high for the 
admiration of his brethren, then dashed it in the face of Dr. 
Knight. 

" We'll keep you until we get to Shawneetown," said Girty to 
the captive, "and then you will have to undergo the same treat- 
ment as the colonel." 

Unheeding the prodding of the burning poles, and the showers 



278 THE CRAWFORD EXPEDITION. 

of coals that fell upon his bare skull, the victim kept his walk 
for half an hour; then, at last, nature was merciful, and he sank 
at the foot of the stake. He had borne as much as man could 
bear, and they heaped the coals upon his senseless form. In 
a little while this most fiendish deed ever recorded of men 
was complete, and the body of the brave soldier a handful of 
ashes. 

Shawneetown was about forty miles from the scene of. Col. 
Crawford's torture, and Dr. Knight, securely pinioned, was placed 
in charge of a single young warrior, to be conveyed thither. His 
slight, almost feminine build, and worn-out condition, led them to 
think this a sufficient escort; besides, he was in the very midst 
of the Indian country, and under no circumstances could he make 
good his escape. The first day the two traveled about twenty- 
five miles, the warrior expecting to reach Shawneetown about 
the middle of the next afternoon. It may well be believed that 
the captive did not close his eyes that night, so anxiously did he 
watch for an opportunity to escape ; but the guard was equally 
watchful, and when morning came he was still a prisoner. The 
warrior might endure hunger and cold and loss of sleep, he 
would not have groaned if exposed to the same tortures so re- 
cently inflicted upon the white man, but the sting of the swarms 
of gnats had become intolerable. Kindling a fire about dawn, 
he untied his prisoner and set him at a similar task, trusting 
that the smoke would drive away the troublesome insects. 
Obediently taking a coal between two sticks. Dr. Knight started 
to the point indicated by the savage; but suddenly turning, 
he struck the Indian with all his force, felling him to the earth. 

Instantly the doctor seized the warrior's rifle, and took aim. 
Hardly had the savage struck the ground when he sprang to his 
feet, b"t seeing that his late prisoner had the rifle, ran off, 
" making night hideous" with his yells. Fortunately for the fugi- 
tive, the white man in his nervous haste had drawn back the 
cock so violently as to break the mainspring, thus rendering the 
gun useless. But the Indian had not waited to see the condition 
of the rifle, and the recent captive was free to continue his jour- 
ney. A toilsome trip it was for the man so weak and enfeebled ; 
twenty-one days passed before he reached Fort Mcintosh, and 
during that time he subsisted on such food as could be obtained 
in the wilderness without a gun — wild gooseberries, young net- 
tles, a raw terrapin, two young birds. Meagre, emaciated andal- 



THE CRAWFORD EXPEDITION. 279 

most starved, he at last reached his destination, with the story of 
the dreadful fate of the commander. 

Of the five hundred men who set out on this expedition, more 
than a hundred perished. Many of these were killed outright; 
others fell into the hands of the Indians, only to be murdered as 
they failed from weakness to keep up with their captors, or to 
be reserved for torture. Of those captured, there were but two 
escaped to tell the tale. Of these Dr. Knight was one, the other 
being John Slover. 

When but eight years old, he had been carried into captivity 
by the Indians, and had lived with them for twelve years. He 
had by this means become acquainted with their language, so that 
he could by signs communicate with any of them, no matter of 
what tribe. For the red men, though their spoken languages dif- 
fer so much that those of one tribe can understand nothing said 
in the language of another, can communicate anything they wish 
b}^ means of signs, which seem to be common to all tribes. Be- 
sides their language, Slover had become an adept in woodcraft, 
and had thoroughly learned the lay of the land in that section 
of country". In consequence of this knowledge, he had been se- 
lected as the principal guide to the expedition. When the re- 
treat began he was for some reason delayed, and only with diffi- 
culty overtook a small party. Attempting to cross a morass, 
their horses sank so deep that it was impossible to extricate 
them J and the fugitives thought themselves lucky to get out, 
even although they must continue their journey on foot. They 
had traveled more than half the distance from the battle-field to 
Fort Pitt, having nearly reached the Tuscarawa, when they were 
attacked by a party of savages. Of the five white men, but one 
escaped to Wheeling 3 one was killed, and the others, of whom 
Slover was one, were taken prisoners. 

Taken first to a small town of the Mingoes and Shawnees, the 
captives were severely beaten, and then conducted to a larger 
town, two miles away. Here they were condemned to run the 
gauntlet, their final fate to depend upon the courage and endur- 
ance then displaj'ed. One of them was severely beaten, then kill- 
ed, and his body hacked to pieces and put up on poles about the 
town. Of the fate of the other we have no record, but when, a 
few da5's later, a messenger arrived from the Governor of De- 
troit, Slover was the only prisoner in their hands. The message 
ran : ** Provisions are scarce, and when you send in prisoners we 



280 THE CRAWFORD EXPEDITION. 

have them to feed, and still some of them are getting off and car- 
rying tidings of our affairs. When any of your people are taken 
by the rebels, they show no mercy. Why then should you ? My 
children, take no more prisoners of any sort, men, women or 
children." 

Such was the message sent by the British authorities to their 
Indian allies in the revolutionary war, nowpractically at aclose, 
though our independence had not yet been formally acknowl- 
edged. Such counsel was only too likely to be followed, ac- 
cording as it did with the wishes of the savages. As we have said, 
Slover was the only captive remaining in their hands ; and a 
council was at once held to consider the manner of his death. 

Horrible as had been the death scene of Crawford, it had not 
sickened their hearts or sated their thirst for torture ; but like 
the tiger's first taste of blood, had whetted their appetite for more. 
The one remaining captive was sentenced to undei'go the same 
torments. But they were not selfish; five miles away was an- 
other village, and with the inhabitants of this they were willing 
to share their pleasure. A rope was tied about Slover's neck, 
and escorted by about forty warriors, he was led to this other 
town. In vain, knowing the fate that awaited him, and hoping 
to avoid it by provoking their anger beyond control, did he 
court an easier death. If he hung back, they drew the rope no 
tighter ; they waited for him to come on, beating him meanwhile 
with the pipe end of their tomahawks; if he sank by the way- 
side, seemingly exhausted, they were equally patient, determ- 
ined not to be cheated out of the pleasure of tormenting him. 

Arrived at the town, preparations went rapidly forward. The 
stake was driven into the ground, and willing hands arranged 
the wood in a circle about it. The captive, beaten almost to a 
jelly by these stranger warriors while his escort had been at- 
tending to these necessary preparations, was bound to the stake, 
and the fire was kindled. The morning had dawned bright and 
clear as ever was June day, but as the day wore on the weather 
had become more uncertain. Anxiously the Indians had watch- 
ed the gathering clouds, fearful of rain. Hardly had their pris- 
oner been bound to the stake when the first big drops began to 
fall ; and the fire had not been well started when the rain came 
down in torrents. Eeprieved by Heaven, the unlucky prison- 
er was released from the stake, only to be securely bound and 
well guarded during the night. 



THE CRAWFORD EXPEDITION. 



281 




282 THE CRAWFORD EXPEDITION. 

Though they could not yet burn, they could again beat him, 
and their resentment at the weather found vent in a shower of 
sturdy blows. At last even they grew tired, and he was re- 
manded to the block-house, the rope about his neck being se- 
cured to one of the beams. Condemned to suffer the most hor- 
rible death the next day, with no hope of deliverance from the 
hands of his tormeaters — for even had the circumstances been 
known, what arm was strong enough to rescue him? — the un- 
happy captive could not have closed his eyes in sleep. But even 
if he could thus have forgotten in horrible dreams the still more 
horrible reality, the three warriors who kept guard would not 
have permitted it. In their broken English and their own 
tongue they enlarged upon the pleasure they expected, and the 
agony he must suffer. The death of Crawford was described 
with gusto, and a repetition of every pang threatened. More 
than this, they exerted their ingenuity arid imagination to find 
others, until eating fire and drinking boiling water became fa- 
miliar images to his mind, tortured as his body was to be. 

During the night, there arrived an Indian whose tidings were 
not likely to make them more lenient to Slover. It was the 
same to whom the guardianship of Dr. Knight had been en- 
trusted, and this was the town to which his prisoner was to have 
been conducted. 

"Long-knife big — big as a chief on the shoulders of a squaw; 
strong as two warriors. His fist big as my head, and hard as 
the stones the water makes smooth. Longknife did this with 
his hand — he scratch deep." 

The warrior pointed to a gash on the side of his head, full 
four inches long and penetrating to the bone, which Dr. Knight 
had made with the stick when he knocked him down. The 
red men gazed at the wound in solemn wonder that a Long- 
knife should be so large and strong. Perhaps he had looked 
very large to the frightened savage; fear magnifies danger; but 
they were not inclined to distrust their brother's word. 

The news rapidly spread over the town, losing nothing on its 
rounds, and soon reached the blockhouse. By that time the 
giant Longknife was about fifteen feet high, with a fist that 
weighed a ton, and finger-nails of the best quality of razor 
steel. 

Slover listened to the account, and being assured that the 
Longknife was called Dr. Knight, lost no time in undeceiving 



THE CRAWFORD EXPEDITION. 283 

his guards as to the courage displayed by the wounded war- 
rior. 

" I know him," he said ; " he is a little man, no bigger than a 
boy, no stronger than an old squaw that is left to die because 
she is no good to work any more. The warrior of the Shaw- 
nees is a coward to run away from such a man, and a forked- 
tongued snake to lie about him." 

The Indians were as ready to believe this as they had been to 
take in the story of the giant, and that poor wouaded Shaw- 
nee had a hard road to travel for some time, so unmercifully was 
he jeered and ridiculed. 

Between the pleasure of keeping their captive fully alive to 
the tortures which he was soon to undergo, and the excitement 
of discussing this piece of news, Slover's guards had not the 
least difficulty in keeping awake. For hours he waited for an 
opportunity, but they were ever watchful. At last, in that dark- 
est hour just before dawn, weariness overpowered them, and 
they fell asleep. This was the chance for which he had longed ; 
but in order to take advantage of it he must be free. With 
comparatively little trouble he loosed his hands, but the rope 
about his neck seemed to defy every effort. Made of undressed 
buffalo hide, it was almost as hard to manage as india-rubber, 
and at last he resorted to another way of removing it — by gnaw- 
ing it in two. 

While thus engaged, one of the warriors awoke, and seating 
himself near the captive began to smoke. Slover carefully kept 
his hands in much the same position as they had been when 
bound, and lay perfectly still — hope seemed gone. The warrior 
smoked on, and Slover felt certain that he would not go to sleep 
again, unless, indeed, the others should awake. In this, how- 
ever, he was mistaken ; for, much to his joy, he saw the war- 
rior lay aside the pipe, lie down, and compose himself to slum- 
ber once again. As soon as he was convinced that he was not 
watched, Slover renewed his efforts; but having found that he 
made no progress in his attempt to gnaw the hide, again tried 
to slip it over his head. In this at last he was successful, and 
soon he stood in the midst of his sleeping guards free from his 
bonds. 

It may well be believed that he lost no time in creeping soft- 
ly from the house; trained by the savages themselves, he could 
move so stealthily that not even their light slumber was dis- 



284 THE CRAWFORD EXPEDITION. 

turbed. Making his way from the house, he leaped a fence and 
gained a corn-field, where the young stalks would be a sufficient 
shelter from observation in the dim, uncertain light of dawn. 

A squaw, with several children, lay sleeping at the root of a 
tree directly in his path. They were not in themselves danger- 
ous, but they might give the alarm to others; and he turned 
aside, making a considerable detour to the point where ho knew 
the horses must have been stationed. But another enemy, sleep- 
ing like the others, frightened him from the animals, and it was 
only by chance that he came upon a few, left to pasture in a glade 
of the forest. One of these he caught, and was fortunate enough 
to secure a piece of an old rug as well. Mounted on this ani- 
mal, with this as his only covering, without weapons either for 
protection or for killing game, he made his way to Wheeling, 
his knowledge of woodcraft enabling him to reach the settle- 
ments much sooner than a man less<})erfectly trained. 

Such was the famous and ill-fated Crawford Expedition. 
Looking at it with all the light which a century can throw up- 
on the motives and actions of men concerned, we see cleai'ly 
how blameless were the Moravian Indians, how patiently they 
bore undeserved sufferings, inflicted by the races contending for 
mastery. But to the men of that day, these pretended converts 
were only worse enemies because secret; their towns were halt- 
ing-places for the hostile tribes, their barns were stores for 
war parties, the ammunition tliey pretended to use for hunting 
or in their own defense, found its way into muskets aimed at 
the whites ; nay, the young men of the Moravian towns, with 
double-dyed treachery, became spies upon the movements of the 
whites, and then led war parties against the more helpless set- 
tlers. Thus the Crawford Expedition was directed against the 
most dangerous enemy ; if they erred in judging the Moravians 
too hastily, they met with a terrible punishment at the hands of 
the warlike Delawares and their yet more savage allies. 



CHAPTER XI. 



SOME HEROINES OF THE BOEDER. 

THE men of the border fought bravely for their homes and 
their families. In general the women were content to 
perform the household duties, which then included spinning 
and weaving; but they were not unhandy with the rifle, and 
many a fair frontier maiden has brought down a deer. That was 
before the days of woman's rights, and the weaker vessels were 
usually content to be defended; but sometimes the strong arm 
of the protector was still in death; sometimes he had journey- 
ed to the forts for necessary supplies of salt and ammunition; 
then, if the dusky foe burst upon the unprotected household, 
the hardy frontier housewife became a heroine, fearless in the 
defence of her helpless children. 

MRS. DUSTIn's captivity. 

The earliest settlers were comparatively safe, keeping, as they 
generally did, near the villages of fortified houses. Occasion- 
ally, however, the Indians, instigated or led by the French, in 
the days before the Revolution, would attack the towns and 
massacre or carry into captivity the inhabitants. Dover and 
Schenectady had thus suffered, when in March, 1697, the sav- 
ages made a descent upon Haverhill, Massachusetts. 

" Then and tliere was hurrying to and fro," — 
but forty persons fell victims. A settler, named Dustin, hur- 
ried from the field where he was at work to save, if he could, 
his 5'oung and helpless family. Bidding his seven children run 
to the neighboring garrison, he seized his gun, mounted his 
horse, and rode after them, intending to save one, even if the 
others were left to perish. His wife and infant, a week old, 
must be left in the house ; them he could not save. When he 
came up rith the fleeing children, he found that he could not 
carry out his hastily formed plan ; he could not choose which 

2% 



286 



SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 



was the dearest. Determining to save all, or perish with them, 
he happily managed to keep the Indians at bay until the whole 
party had reached the shelter of the block-house. He had sav- 
ed his children, but their mother had fallen into the hands of 
the enemy. Dragged from her bed, she clung to her helpless 
babe with despairing energy, only to have it torn from her 
arms and dashed against the trunk of a tree. A tomahawk 
brandished above her head warned her not to give way to her 
grief, and she, with her nurse, was compelled to accompany 
them on their march. Other prisoners were taken, and the ma- 




SLAUGHIKRINU IIEK CAn'ORS. 

rauders set out on their return. One by one the captives, grow- 
ing weak, lagged behind; and the savages, resolving that none 
should escape, tomahawked them. "When they had journeyed one 
hundred and fifty miles, Mrs. Dustin and her nurse were the 
only white persons with them, excepting a boy who had been 
captured a number of years before, and whom the savages re- 
garded as one of their number. But, trusted as he was, this 
boy was only waiting for a chance to escape. Having sounded 
him and found this to be the case, Mrs. Dustin directed him to 
find out where the blow must be struck with a tomahawk to be 
fatal. The question was asked and the part of the head desig- 



SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 287 

nated. At the first opportunity the boy conveyed this inform- 
ation to her unsuspected by the Indians. 

They were now so far away from the settlements that the sav- 
ages considered themselves safe; pursuit was distanced; the 
women could not possibly escape; therefore no watch was kept 
at night. As the warriors slept around the camp-fire, their 
arms beside them, ready for instant use, the woman, whom they 
least dreaded on account of her frail condition, arose from among 
them, and silently stealing alonggathered three tomahawks from 
thesidesof as many savages. One of these she handed to the nurse, 
and one to the white boy. And then began the carnival of re- 
venge. Deep sank each blade into an Indian's skull, and the 
three savages died without a groan. Again and again the hatch- 
ets were dyed in blood, until ten red men lay dead where they 
had slept. Only one squaw, wounded, escaped into the forest, 
to tell the gruesome tale of a " Yenghese" woman's revenge. 

The story of her exploit would hardly be believed, if she 
reached the settlements to tell it; and, in order to be able to 
prove it, Mrs. Dustin took the scalps of her ten victims, and 
bore the ghastly trophies back to Haverhill. Even when the 
tale was thus substantiated, the hardy frontiersmen could hardly 
realize that a delicate woman could have withstood the hard- 
ships of the march and escaped by such a deed of daring. 

MISS BETSY ZANE. 

Mrs. Dustin is perhaps the first of whom we have such record j 
but by no means the last. Passing over a multitude of less fam- 
ous names, in a space of eighty-five years, we come to that very 
seige of Fort Henry, near Wheeling, of which mention was made 
in a previous chapter. Only eighteen men remained in the fort, 
of the forty-two settlers who had fled thither at the earliest 
alarm. Not only were they nearly worn out by the constant 
watch that must be kept against their four hundred dusky foes, 
but a new danger beset them — their powder was running short. 

" There is a keg of powder in my house," said Col. Zanc, the 
commander," but it would be dangerous to go after it." 

There stood the house in plain view, barely sixty yards from 
the gate of the fort. Yet every inch was within rifle-shot of the 
Indians sheltered behind the trees on all sides. Hardly had the 
words been uttered, however, when several young men volun- 
teered for the errand, honorable because it was so dangerous. 



288 SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 

"Only one can go," decided the commander; "there is a 
great risk, and there are so few of us that we must husband our 
strength. We cannot afford to lose more than one man." 

" We cannot afford to lose one man," spoke a clear voice at 
his elbow. 

The frontiersman turned to look at the speaker, a young girl 
beautiful, graceful, the stamp of culture and refinement upon her 
face and mein, the light of courage and self-sacrifice shining 
from her eye. It was Elizabeth Zane, the Colonel's sister, just 
come from a fashionable boarding-school of Philadelphia, to 
visit her brother's family. 

Her words were but too true; none of the men there cluster- 
ed would have uttered them; but once spoken no one could 
gainsay them. So they stood silent, and she went on : 

"A woman adds no strength to the garrison ; let me go." 

"You?" exclaimed the brother, half in astonishment, half in 
derision. 

"Yes, I. I know just where the powder is, so that it would 
take me less time than any one else ; and, as I sajd before, you 
cannot spare one man to run such a risk." 

" The risk will be as great to you as to a man," said the 
Colonel, doubtfully, half convinced by her earnestness. 

" Bah ! the Indians wouldn't think a white woman worth a 
charge of powder and lead. Now if it were within tomahawk- 
ing distance, it might be different. But even then the garrison 
would be as strong as before." 

Much more she said to the same purpose ; and necessity ar- 
gued even more strongly. Eeluctantly Col. Zane gave his con- 
sent, the gates of the fort were opened, and the young lady 
darted out on her dangerous mission. She had read the opin- 
ions of the Indians aright when she said that they would not 
waste ammunition on a white woman, for not a shot was fired as 
she ran from the fort to the house. But when she issued from 
the building with the keg of powder in her arms, then the sav- 
ages saw that she was not a mere decoy dispatched to draw 
them from their shelter. The whole story was plain to them; 
if ammunition was running short among the white men, before 
long the fort would be theirs, and men, women and children at 
their mercy; the powder must not be carried to the whites be- 
fore their very eyes. Volley after volley came from the am- 
bushed Indians as the girl sped onward. Like swarms of bees 



SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 289 

the bullets whistled around her, but it seemed as though she 
bore a charmed life. Without a scratch she reached the fort 
with her precious burden, and the gates closed behind her. 

Miss Zane may bo called a typical frontier heroine, for her ex- 
ploit was often rivaled" under similar circumstances. Indeed, at 
the time it was thought no great thing to do, as there were many 
others who would readily have done it, says an aged woman 
present at the siege. What a tribute to the courage of the 
border women, that this was thought no great thing ! 

MRS. SCRAGGS AND HER CHILDREN. 

Along about this time, there lived in what is now Bourbon 
County, Kentucky, a widow bearing the homely name of Scraggs. 
Her log cabin, situated far away from any other clearing, consisted 
of two rooms, which, however, did not communicate with each 
other. In one room slept Mrs. Scraggs, a widowed daughter and 
her infant, and two grown sons of the elder woman ; in the other 
slept her three youngest children, ranging in age, at the date of 
our story, from about twelve to twenty years. 

It was nearly midnight of an April night in 1787. One of the 
daughters was busy at the loom which supplied the family with 
wearing apparel, and one of the sons, alarmed by some unusual 
indications, was on the alert; but the rest of the family were 
wrapped in slumber. Erom the woods came the questioning cry 
of the owls, more than usually frequent J from the pound near 
the house came the noise of horses snorting and stamping, as if in 
terror. What the reason was, the j'outh could not guess; but 
fearing ridicule, would not mention his alarm or its causes. 

At last his listening ear caught the sound of footsteps near the 
house, and a moment afterward there was a loud knock at the 
door, while the newcomer asked, in good English : 

" Who keeps house?" 

Thinking it some benighted settler, who had lost his way in 
the trackless wilderness around, young Scraggs sprang to unbar 
the door. But the knock had awakened the mother, who now 
jumped out of bed. 

" Don't, don't let them in," she whispered, catching her son's 
arm just as he placed his hand on the rude wooden bolt; "they 
are Indians. I know it by the voice." 

She had lived too long upon the fi-ontier to be deceived, and 
her son readily yielded. The others were awakened, and the 



290 SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 

two youths prepared to defend themselves and the women. Find- 
ing that the whites in this cabin were aware of their true char- 
acter, and warned by a shot from a loop-hole that persistency 
would be dangerous, the savages betook themselves to the other 
cabin, where the three girls were alone. With stout rails from 
the neighboring fences they battered the door down, and the 
trembling maidens were at their mercy. 

The eldest, seated at the loom, grasped the knife which she 
had been using, and retreated into the corner. As a burly In- 
dian sprang forward she raised the blade ; and when he would 
have seized her, she drove it to his heart. A second warrior, un- 
willing to take the same risk, or desirous of avenging his com- 
rade, cleft her skull with one blow of his tomahawk. 

The second sister, aroused from a sound sleep by the battering 
at the door, was less fortunate, having no weapon with which to 
defend herself; and she was condemned to suffer captivity, a fate 
which was a thousand times worse than death. The youngest had 
slipped past the savages out into the yard, and might have 
escaped had she possessed sufficient self-control to steal away 
quietly. Instead of that, she ran about, crying that her sisters 
had been killed. 

What were the thoughts and feelings of those^ four who were 
sheltered by the other cabin ! Through the rude wall, they could 
hear the screams of the girls ; the wild whoops and threatening 
voices of the savages; the fall of the eldest, as she sank beneath 
the fatal blow; and the lamentations of the youngest. Mad with 
grief and hate, the two brothers grasped their rifles yet more 
firmly, and prepared to rescue their little sister. 

*' What are you about to do ?" demanded the mother, sternly ; 
"you can not save her. Leave her to her fate. A sally would 
not help her, and would be the destruction of all the rest." 

What must have been the mother's agony when she thus sacri- 
ficed one child for the sake of the others! The young men re- 
luctantly turned from the door, which one had already half un- 
barred, and it was again secured. Scarcely had this been done, 
when they heard a loud scream from the child, then one or two 
moans; and then her voice was stilled forever. The mother's 
face grew whiter yet, the brothers set their teeth together, the 
one remaining daughter clasped her baby closer, and all awaited 
the next result of the attack. 

It was not long before it came. The savages had kindled a fire 



SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 291 

close to the log wall which divided the two cabins, and the dry 
wood burned like tinder. Flames and smoke came bursting in- 
to the apartment still held by the whites, who saw that they 
must either leave the house or suffer the most horrible of all 
modes of death. Hastily deciding upon a plan, the widow di- 
rected her daughter and younger son to make for a certain part of 
the fence, while she, with the elder son, ran in a different direc- 
tion. The two little parties were groujjed in readiness, the door 
was suddenly thrown open, and they darted forth. 

The blazing logs shed a fearful radiance about on the bodies 
of the two murdered girls, on the poov bound and trembling cap- 
tive, on the demoniac rejoicings of the victorious savages, on the 
flight of the fugitives. Taken aback by the sudden issue from 
the house, the Indians did not fire until the whites had reached 
the fence; and as she was crossing the stile, the heroic mother 
fell dead. The son, unhurt by the balls that whistled around him, 
sprang away into the woods, bent not so much on escape as oi> 
finding an instrument of vengeance. 

With the true savage desire to '' count coup" upon their en- 
emies, the Indians rushed with uplifted tomahawks upon the 
second party. The young man, hardly more than a boy, could 
only sell his life dearly. Bidding his sister make haste to the 
woods with her child, he fired upon the advancing enemy, as rap« 
idly as he could load and reload. As they came too close for this, 
he clubbed his rifle and with the strength of despair dealt deadly 
blows to right and left. The warriors flinched from the combat, 
close as it was, and retreating a pace or two, one threw his tom- 
ahawk at the boy. Wounded and bleeding he still fought on, un- 
til, struck by a dozen missiles, he fell. His noble purpose had 
been accomplished, for his sister and her child escaped to a 
neighbor's cabin. 

The elder son had also made his way to a place of safety, but 
for himself he cared little. Before daylight he had succeeded in as- 
sembling thirty men, and under the leadership of a Col. Edwards, 
the avengers began the pursuit. Warned by the baying of a 
bloodhound that the whites used in tracking them, the Indians 
dispatched with their tomahawks their girl captive, and left her 
dying in the path of the pursuers. If anything else had been 
needed to excite their fury against the dusky foe, they would 
have found it in the girl's bleeding form, as she feebly tried to 
guide them on the trail of her murderers. 
19 



292 SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 

* 

In less than half tin hour, they came in sight of the savages, 
and prepared for an immediate attack. Chai-ging upon the en- 
emy they learned that two devoted warriors had sacrificed them- 
selves for their comrades, and that while these kept the whites 
engaged, the main body had escaped. 

Such was the fate of the Widow Scraggs and four of her child- 
ren. We turn now to a tale less tragic, but no whit less thrilling. 

MISS WASHBURNE. 

Among the men who fought the Indian marauders of the Ohio 
Yalley, the McLellan brothers were not the least noted. One of 
them, Robert, figures on the pages of Washington Irving's As- 
toria, and is one of the heroes of the following story. 

In the fall of 1790, an Indian outbreak was anticipated, and 
McLellan and White, scouts attached to Wayne's command, had, 
among others, been sent out to gather news of the enemy's move- 
ments. Supplied with a sufficient quantity of cooked food to last 
them for many days, they stationed themselves ujDon the sum- 
mit of Mt. Pleasant, overlooking the Hocking River. Their 
post was accessible only by a narrow wooded ridge; true, but 
twelve feet intervened between the height where they were and 
that just opposite, but that narrow gulf was two hundred feet 
deep, and one who missed his footing in attemping the leap, 
would be dashed to pieces on the rocks below. 

An Indian council of war was in progress on the plain beneath, 
and from their lofty perch the two scouts watched the rehearsal 
of bloody deeds already done, and preparations for others yet to 
be committed. Anxious to make their report as complete as pos- 
sible, the scouts resolved to linger until the lastpossible moment. 

Keeping a sharp outlook upon the avenues of approach, they 
passed several days in safety, concealing themselves in caves or 
thickets whenever any Indians ascended the slopes. But now a 
new danger beset them. Hitherto they had drunk the water 
from the rain-filled basins on the hill-tops, but that supply had 
given out, and they must descend to the spring on the hillside. 
Once the trip was made in safety by McLellan, and then it be- 
came White's turn. Descending cautiously, he reached the spring 
without being detected, and procured the desired supply. As he 
disposed of the canteens, in order to make the ascent unincum- 
bered, he heard a slight noise; and a moment afterward two 
squaws came suddenly into view. No sooner had the elder wo- 



SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 293 

man caught sight of the scout than she gave the alarm whoop of 
the Indians. 

Dropping his canteens, White sprang upon the women and 
dragged them both into the water, endeavoring to drown them. 

Don't, don't," gasped the younger as she resisted his efforts; 
" I am a white woman — don't." 

Instantly he released her, and devoted all his attention to her 
companion. Possessed of muscles like steel, hardened and 
toughened by constant exercise, he was easily able to manage 
her ; and in a little while her body floated down the stream. 

*' For God's sake, let me go with you to the settlements," 
pleaded the girl, who had been a passive observer since her own 
release. 

" I'm a scout, on duty with my partner up there," answered 
White, pointing to the crest where McLellan awaited him. 

" Let me go there, then — anywhere away from the Indians," 
she begged, shuddering at the remembrance. 

Hastily the two made the ascent. As they climbed upward the 
war-whoops of a hundred Indians apprised themthat the squaw's 
body had been found, and that her people were bent on aveng- 
ing her death. In low, anxious tones the whites held a council of 
war. Everything was provided for ; rifles were seen to, knives 
were made ready for use. Only the wooded ridge could be de- 
fended ; they must hope that no warrior would leap across that 
chasm two hundred feet deep ; against a foe approaching on that 
side there was no shelter. 

"See here, Miss," said McLellan, when they had prepared to 
receive their enemies ; "you'd a great deal better go back to 
'em J tell 'em we took you a prisoner and you got away ; that 
there's only two of us, and we're here. If you do that, they 
won't hurt you. If you stay here, there's no hope of getting 
away alive." 

*' I have lived with them ten years," replied the girl, in a low, 
determined voice J " when they took me captive, I was a little 
child; they burned the house, shot my father, tomahawked my 
mother, dashed the baby against a tree, and carried me off". On- 
ly my brother Eli escaped. He was not at home. Do you won- 
der that I would rather die here with you than go back to live 
with them ? I hate them." 

Pen cannot express the emphasis ujDon the last words. McLel- 
lan caught at the name she had mentioned. 



294 SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. • 

"What is your brother's name ?" he asked. 

"Eli Washburne." 

"Why, he is one of us — Gen. Wayne's scouts. But wo cannot 
defend you — we shall probably be killed, both of us." 

"I can shoot, and if one of you should be wounded — look — 
there they come I" 

It was even so ; creeping cautiously along from tree to tree, 
the Indians were advancing upon the scouts, along the narrow 
ridge that we have described. The white men had not been idle 
while the girl had pled her cause, and their rifles were ready to 
be used the moment a warrior came within range. Nearer and 
nearer drew the savages, and the whoops of those ascending the 
ridffe reassured the foremost in the search. At last one warrior 
exposed himself a moment, and the crack of a rifle sounded from 
the thicket where the scouts were concealed. Leaping into the 
air, his body rolled down the slope to the bottom of the ravine 
beside it. 

Again and again this occurred, and the Indians approached 
more cautiously than ever. But as the scouts saw what throngs 
of redskins were seeking them, they realized how long would be 
the time during which they must be on the alert. If they were 
attacked only in this direction, if the Indians did not think of 
the spur across that chasm, they might be able to defend them- 
selves. But here arose another difficulty; their girl companion 
had disappeared J had she taken their advice and returned to her 
captors? If she had done so and given the information that there 
were but two of the white men, then indeed their fate was sealed; 
the Indians, thus reassured, would rush upon them, certain of 
victory. 

Still they had no mind to surrender, even if surrender had 
been possible ; it was but devoting themselves to death, perhaps 
to torture ; and they could die here. But now they found that 
their worst hopes were realized ; the savages were approaching 
the brink of the precipice; a leap of twelve feet was nothing to 
these denizens of the forest, trained to activity from their infan- 
cy ; and on that side they were without the shelter which the 
thicket aff'orded them on the other avenue of approach. Now a 
warrior, rifle in hand, darts forward from among the trees to the 
very brink of the gulf, and gathers himself for the leap. The bar- 
rier once passed, he would dash into range, take aim and fire at 
the scouts. McLellan raised his rifle for a careful shot ; he must 



SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 



295 




THE WHITE SQUAW S SHOT. 



296 SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 

shoot to kill, as soon as the savage should have reached the 
nearer edge, a hundred yards from the scout's position. He pull- 
ed the trigger ; the weapon, the best procurable in those days, 
was a flint-lock liable to fail him at any moment. It failed him 
now; the flint was shivered into atoms. 

But at the very moment that he found his own weapon useless, 
a report rang out upon the air, and the warrior, in the rnidst of 
his leap, sank into the yawning chasm. He looked about him, 
thinking that White might have come to the rescue ; but almost 
at the instant that the thought crossed his mind, his companion 
fired upon an Indian advancing in the other direction. Wasting- 
no time in useless conjecture, he proceeded to replace the flint, 
when he heard a report as if it were the echo of his companion's ; 
and looking up, he saw a warrior, whose feet had just touched the 
nearer edge of the precipice, fall backward. 

A howl of dismay arose from their enemies, as this was seen; 
and the scouts answered with a shout of triumph; but the myster- 
ious rifleman was silent; whoever fired the shots spoke only by 
actions. From their hiding place, the white man could see the 
savages running hither and thither, apparently summoning tlie 
warriors and chiefs to a council. Night was coming on ; and be- 
fore the red clouds in the west had entirely faded, all the In- 
dians had withdrawn. 

But their danger was by no means past. The redskins were 
aware of their presence in the neighborhood, and they were prob- 
ably surrounded by guards. At dusk they heard the sound of a 
light footstep, approaching through the bushes ; did the savages 
hope to steal upon them unaware? Cocking their rifles, the 
scouts peered through the gathering darkness. Presently the 
girl came into sight. 

"Halt!" commanded McLellan ; "turnback to the redskins. 
We've no further use for you." 

" I have done my best," replied the girl. " If I go back to the 
village they will kill me. Why will j^ou not receive me?" 

" Because you come from them, to engage our attention while 
they steal upon us. Go back, for I don't want to fire on Eli 
Washburne's sister." 

"Trustme, trust me," cried she; "I will not betray you ; I have 
not done so. I have helped you. It was I who shot the two In- 
dians over there." 

Wary as they must be, distrustful as they might be, her earnest- 



SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 297 

ness was such that the scouts could not but believe her, and 
McLellan bade her advance. Then she told her story; how, see- 
ing the first warrior fall, she had stolen away from the scouts' 
post, down into the hollow whither his body had rolled. While 
creeping through the bushes, slowly so that she might go silent- 
ly, she overheard the Indians plan to advance upon the scouts 
from the spur we have mentioned. Eagerly she secured the gun 
and ammunition of the fallen brave, and sought an eyrie which 
commanded their proposed route, and which was known only to 
herself. There she had taken aim and fired, with what result 
has been seen. 

" And the second," she concluded, *' was High Bear, who led 
the party that murdered my father and mother, and carried me 
off a captive." 

Her story had been briefly and modestly told; the last sen- 
tence was the only one which showed any triumph, and that was 
cliiefly in the fact that her murdered kindred had been avenged. 
So little time had it taken, that it was not yet dark when she had 
finished. A few moments were spent in consultation, then the 
party refreshed themselves with what food they had ; for it was 
impossible to escape before darkness should shelter them. As 
Miss Washburne was thoroughly acquainted with the lay of the 
land, she was to be the guide. 

Night came on, and when the village below them was wrapped 
in slumber, save the sentinels that paced their weary round, the 
three whites cautiously descended the slope, and made their way 
across the plain. Bidding the scouts wait at a'certain point un- 
til her return, the guide went forward alone, and in a moment 
they could hear her voice in conversation with a warrior. Was 
it treachery ? Had her whole story been a cunningly fabricated 
one, designed to entrap them into the power of her adopted peo- 
ple ? As these thoughts occurred to the scouts, they cocked their 
rifles and resolved that at least the}' would die game; nothing 
more could be done. 

We need not wonder at their distrust. The Indians frequently 
carried off children, and brought them up as their own. Indeed, 
in some cases, the adopted sons and daughters were more tend- 
erly cared for and petted than those born to them. Infant or 
adult, the white person once received into their families was an 
individual of much consideration. This had its duo effect upon 
the feelings of the captives, and in many cases they refused to 



298 SOME HEROINES OP THE BORDER. 

return to their own people when opportunity offered. Such a 
one might this girl be; devoted to her adopted people, and ready- 
to sacrifice any one to the welfare of the Shawnees. 

But their suspicions proved groundless, for she was alone 
when she returned to their place of concealment. 

"I have just got two sentinels out of the way," she explained, 
*' and now we can go on. We must go through the very heart 
of the village, though, for every other path is strictly guarded. 
If we are very careful, there will be no danger, as they will not 
suspect me." 

They were in the very midst of the village, when the dogs, 
the invariable companions of the Indians, set up a loud barking. 
More than one squaw, aroused by the noise, put her head out 
from the lodge to see what had occasioned the disturbance ; but 
the scouts slunk back into the deep shadows, the guide answered 
in the Indian language, and the questioners retired, satisfied that 
nothing was wrong. At last the confines of the village were 
reached ; they were out of hearing and might go as fast as their 
strength would permit. Through the forest they journeyed at a 
rapid rate, making no pause until noon of the next day, when the}- 
considered that they were reasonably safe from pursuit. Con- 
tinuing their march at a more moderate pace, they reached 
" Mad Anthony" "Wayne's headquarters without farther adven- 
ture. The Indians, not knowing how much of their plans might 
have been found out by the daring scouts, or revealed by their 
escaped captive, dispersed without carrying out their intention 
of making war. Thus the rifle of the " white squaw" prevent- 
ed, for the time at least, the horrors of Indian outrages and de- 
predations. 

MRS. Merrill's exploit. 

The year 1791 saw a most remarkable instance of a woman's 
heroism. A settler named Merrill lived in a lonely cabin in Nel- 
son County, Virginia, his family consisting of his wife, one 
daughter just budding into womanhood, and other smaller chil- 
dren. As usual where much of the food for the family must be 
obtained by the chase, there were many dogs about the place. 
One night these kept up an unusual noise. Thinking tiiat per- 
haps they were barking at some belated traveler who had come 
to ask for shelter or to inquire his road, the hospitable pioneer 
started out to investigate. As he opened the door, thus throw- 
ing his figure into clear relief against the fire blazing at the 



SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 299 

other side of the room, there was a sharp report, a shot struck 
him, and he fell backward upon the floor. There could be but 
one explanation ; and even while the yells of the dusky foes were 
yet sounding, the wife and daughter had drawn him farther into 
the room, and closed and barred the door. 

The instant that the shot was fired, the savages had rushed 
forward, hoping that the door would not be closed in time to 
prevent their entrance; but the promptness of the two women 
had defeated this intention. Nothing daunted, however, by the 
interposition of the planks between them and their prey, they 
began to belabor the barrier with their tomahawks. A breach 
was soon made, and the foremost endeavored to squeeze through 
this into the room. 

But the courageous woman within was ready for him. Her 
husband lay suffering, perhaps dying; her little children were 
screaming with fright; the eldest daughter knelt at her father's 
side, white and trembling, but endeavoring, with the rude sur- 
gery of the frontier, to staunch the flow of blood and bind up 
the wound ; the exulting yells without showed how secure of 
success were the assailants. Seizing an axe, she dealt the in- 
truder a swinging blow upon the head. He died without a 
groan, and the intrepid woman dragged his body into the room. 
His companion, supposing that he had entered of his own will, 
prepared to follow, but met with the same fate. -Again and 
again was this repeated, and four Indians — in latter day phrase- 
ology, "good" ones — lay on the floor of the cabin. 

But the suspicions of those without were now aroused; they 
did not see why their companions within the cabin should be so 
silent, why the door had not been opened to admit them. Re- 
treating to some little distance, they tried to get a fair view 
of the interior. There lay the wounded father, the daughter 
bending over him; there stood the heroic wife, axe in hand, 
awaiting the approach of another enemy. The bodies of their 
fated comrades they could not see, they having been dragged to 
one side. It was evident that some new plan of attack must be 
adopted. 

There were three Indians yet remaining, of the party of seven. 
It was agreed that two of these should climb to the roof of the 
cabin and descend the chimney; while the other, waiting until 
this had been accomplished, and the attention of the inmates di- 
verted, should enter through the breach in the door. Silently 



300 



SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 




SOME HEROINES OP THE BORDER. 801 

as they might steal up to the house, they could not reach the 
roof without noise, and Mrs. Merrill speedily detected their pur- 
pose. The thrifty housewife had provided huge feather beds 
for her family, and one of these she directed her little son to 
drag to the fireplace. The united efforts of the boy and his 
sister placed the huge mass in the very center of the glowing 
embers. The cotton cover caught fire and kindled the feathers. 
As the two savages descended the wide-mouthed chimney, a suf- 
focating smoke arose from the burning feathers. Half insensible 
by reason of it, they were unable to climb to the roof or even to 
remain where they were, and fell, helpless to the hearth. The 
wounded man roused himself and dispatched them before they 
I'ecovered from their insensibility; while the wife still kept 
guard at the door. 

Having allowed what he considered a sufficient time for his 
comrades to effect their entrance, the one remaining savage 
croj)t up to the door, and tomahawk in hand, sprang forward. 
Once airain that axe descended, but with less fatal effect than 
before; he was wounded, not killed. Howling with pain and 
dismay, he took himself off to the M'oods, and never paused un- 
til he reached the village of his tribe. A white prisoner, who 
afterward escaped, overheard his account of it. 

" What news? " asked a warrior. 

'' Bad news," answered the fugitive j " damn bad news. Long- 
knife squaw fight worse than the warriors of her people." 

There is, we believe, no further record of the Merrills in border 
histrny; from which wo infer that the escaped Indian's story 
made his kindred afraid to attack the cabin again. 

MRS. MASON. 

A woman who defended her home and her children might well 
have been the terror of the savages. Such a one was the wife 
of George Mason, a settler who had located his cabin about 
twelve miles from Knoxville, Tennessee. January 27th, 1794, he 
lieard a noise at his stable during the night, and stepped out to 
ascertain the cause. His wife, left alone in the house with her 
young children, waited in vain for his return. Cut off from his 
cabin by a dozen Indians, he fled, but was pursued, fired on and 
wounded. He took shelter in a cave a quarter of a mile from 
the house, but the savages were close behind him, and he was 
dragged forth and tomahawked. 

Meanwhile, the woman waiting at the house had heard the 



302 SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 

shots, but was at a loss to know their meaning; for although the 
Indians had committed many outrages in that part of the coun- 
try, she had not lived on the frontier long enough to attribute 
every such disturbance to the savages. As they returned to the 
house, she heard their jubilant voices, and thinking that perhaps 
the neighbors bad been aroused by the firing, and were gather- 
ing together, she sprang towards the door to admit them. 

As they came nearer, she could distinguish their words; ac- 
quainted with both English and German, she perceived that this 
language was different from either; and for the first time it 
flashed across her mind that these were Indians, that it was her 
own home that was the center of attack. 

Hastily barring the door, she moved chairs and tables, a true 
feminine barricade, against it. Her children had not been awak- 
ened by the shots, and fearful that if they awoke their cries 
would be a guide to the enemy, she covered them carefully and 
closely with the bed-clothes, so that, even if they heard the 
noises, their own voices would be smothered by blankets and 
quilts. Fortunately, her husband had that very morning shown 
her how the double-trigger of a rifle was set, and taking down 
his well-charged weapon from the wall where it hung, she placed 
herself directly opposite the opening which would be made. 

As she stood alone in the darkness, awaiting the coming of the 
yelling savages, she realized that her husband had been killed, 
else [surely he would have come to her help ; but the thought 
only nerved her to greater courage; she alone, weak woman as 
she was, must avenge him and protect his children. She had 
not long to wait; with fence-rails and tomahawks the savages 
beat in the door, but the heavy furniture prevented its swinging 
wide open. The body of one savage was thrust into the narrow 
opening, and just filled it. He struggled to get in, and two or 
three more, just behind him, were pushing him forward. She 
set the trigger of the rifle, put the muzzle almost against the 
body of the foremost, and fired. As she had expected, the 
Indians went down like bricks in a row; the first without a 
groan, the second with a scream of mortal agony, the third with 
an exclamation of surprise and terror. 

Not a word said the heroine, as she stood alone in the dark- 
ness, beside the trundle-bed where her children slept; not a 
movement betrayed her whereabouts. The savages, terrified by 
the silence succeeding the unlooked-for shot, thought that surely 



SOME HEROINES OF THE BORDER. 303 

the cabin was full of armed men. Quickly they made off to the 
stable, and after possessing themselves of the three horses which 
it contained, set it on fire. Retreating hastily through the 
woods when they had thus assured themselves that all pursuit 
must be on foot, they regained their camp. Twenty-five Indians 
had made up the party, and one woman had defeated all. 




A FRONTIER HERO A.. .> .....vJi^E. 



CHAPTER XII. 



THE LEWIS AND CLAEKE EXPEDITION. 

AS we glance hurriedly over the last census returns, to ascer- 
tain the rank of a favorite city, or some other point of equal 
importance, we must often pause to think that it was not so form- 
erly J such a state was placed above such another in the list, such 
a city was but a small town, ten years ago. But go back for 
eighty years, and note the differences. Of the ten cities highest 
on the last list only one-half figured prominently in the returns 
of 1800. Cincinnati, a little town on the Ohio, had been settled 
but twelve years before, and boasted less than eight hundred in- 
habitants. True, beyond the Mississippi were larger towns, but 
they were not in the limits ofthe United States; that whole coun- 
try then belonged to France. In the Southwest, the most import- 
ant was New Orleans, which contained eight thousand people, or 
more than twice as many as Brooklyn then. Cahokia, a town on 
the east bank of the Mississippi, was the most considerable Am- 
erican settlement in the region above. Seven miles above it was a 
Ercnchtradingpost and village, which boasted not a single house 
built of any other material than logs, and from which, for years 
afterward, the inhabitants used to come, to buy goods, to the 
town whose site is now in the midst of the Mississippi. This un- 
important village, the sixth city on our latest list, has since at- 
tained considerable notoriety, her hopefiil citizens styling her, 
affectionately, the " Future Great City of the "World," or with true 
American brevity, the " Future Great." Three years later, the 
unsettled wilderness to the south of Lake Michigan saw the erec- 
tion of a rude stockade fort, named Dearborn, where in 1831 the 
village of Chicago was built. Away on the Pacific coast, the 
Spanish missionaries had already been at work, and the harbor 
entered by the Golden Gate was the ai)proach to one of their 
posts, where, in 1835, a village of adobe huts was begun; called, 
from the mission, San Francisco. 



LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 305 

Such, at the beginning of the century, were the great cities of 
the West, and we may imagine the state of the surrounding coun- 
try when such was the character of the centers of population. 
Not yet had the idea of an overland passage to the Pacific been 
abandoned, though the dangers of the way and the length of the 
journey were better appreciated than they had been nearly two 
hundred years before, when the French settlers in Canada ex- 
pected to find the w^estern ocean a few days' easy journey from 
Lake Superior. Even before the Eevolution the project had been 
tried by Jonathan Carver, but want of means obliged him to 
abandon it. The war occupied the attention of all, exclusively, 
and there was no time or money for such expeditions. In the 
meantime, however, the Hudson Bay Company had sent its trad- 
ers into the western wilderness, and after peace was concluded, 
John Jacob Astor transacted much business with them. 

It w^as not until after the purchase of Louisiana by the United 
States in 1803 that the government first took an interest in such 
explorations. This purchase was made by the influence of Pres- 
ident Jefferson, whose keen eye saw the advantages which would 
attend such extension of territory. Highly delighted at his suc- 
cess, he recommended to Congress, in a confidential message, that 
a party should be despatched to trace the Missouri to its source, 
cross the Kocky Mountains, and proceed to the Pacific. The plan 
was approved by Congress, Captain Meriwether Lewis, the Pres- 
ident's private secretar}^, being a2:)pointed to lead the expedition. 
William Clarke, the brother of Gen. G-eorge Ejpgers Clarke, was 
afterward associated with him, and the success ^viih. which they 
met was largely due to his knowledge of the habits and character 
of the Indians. 

The preparations for the expedition were completed and the 
party selected before the close of 1803. Nine young men from 
Kentucky, fourteen United States soldiers, two French watermen 
to serve as interpreter and hunter, and a black servant of Capt. 
Clarke, composed the party, enlisted to serve as privates during 
the expedition. Several others were to accompany them a part 
of the way. It was the twenty-first of May, 1804, however, wdien 
they left St. Charles, near the mouth of the Missouri, for the un- 
trodden western wilds. On the first day of June they were at the 
mouth of the Osage, where they listened to the story that their 
French guides gravely told them of the origin of the tribe from 
whom the river was named. This was the story : 



306 LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 

A snail had passed its whole existence in quiet on the margin 
of this stream, when a high flood swept it down to the Missouri, 
and left it exposed upon the bank. Here the heat of the sun soon 
ripened the snail into a man, hut the change in his nature had 
not caused him to forget his native river, and thither he bent 
his steps. Soon overtaken by hunger and fatigue, he was near]}' 
fainting with exhaustion, when the Great Spirit, appearing to 
him, gave him a bow and arrow and showed him how to kill and 
cook deer, and cover himself with its skin. As he approached 
the river, he met a beaver. 

" Who are you ?" asked the beaver, haughtily, " and why do 
you come to disturb me in my possessions ?" 

The Osage (for such was the snail-man) haughtily answered 
that the river was his own, for he had once lived on its borders. 



THK OSAGE'S father-in-law. 

The dispute threatened to grow into a fight. The daughter of the 
beaver, however, reconciled them, and was finally married to 
the Osage ; the whole tribe being their descendants. 

Many friendly visits were received from parties of Indians from 
the various tribes along the banks, and they distributed laced 
coats, hats, medals and trinkets among them, carefully suiting 
the gift to the rank of their recipient. Passing the quarry where 
the red stone used for calumets is found, a place sacred to peace, 
where even warring tribes meet without hostile demonstrations, 
they reached, on the twenty-eighth of August, a bluff, surrounded 
by a beautiful plain. Fine prairies were on either side of the 
river, and timber was more plentiful. Here they encamped, de- 
siring to repair a boat which had been injured, and do some 
other necessary work. Here they were visited by a number of 
Sioux chiefs and warriors on the thirtieth, to whom Capt. Lewis 
delivered a speech, with the usual advice regarding their future 
conduct. The council held the next day is remarkable for the 



LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 307 

similarity of the speeches, each speaker laying great stress upon 
his love for the white sons of his great father, and his poverty, 
which could be relieved by gifts from them. This place they 
called Council Bluifs, because it was the scene of the first formal 
council held with the Indians. 

As yet they had been received with great professions of friend- 
ship by the Indians, who, although generally tall, well formed 
and active, excelling in personal beauty and dignity the tribes 
farther east, were poorly armed, generally with bows and ar- 
rows. Their first alarm came from another source. 

The Missouri is a peculiarly changing river, washing away one 
shore and adding to the other continually. In a few years whole 
farms, of many acres each, have been thus carried away from 
their owners by the treacherous stream. Such w^as the danger 
which now beset them. About midnight on the twentieth of 
September the sleepers were startled by the cry that the sand- 
bar was sinking. Hastily embarking, they made for the other 
shore, reaching it barely in time to see the bank which they had 
just left fall into the water. 

At an island a few miles above this jioint they were joined by 
one of their hunters, whose horse had been stolen b}^ the Indians. 
Leaving the island, they soon overtook five Indians on the shore; 
having anchored, they spoke to them from the boat : 

" We are friends, and wish to remain such, but we are not afraid 
of any Indians. Some of your young men have stolen the horse 
which your great father in Washington sent for* your great chief, 
and we cannot treat with you until it is brought back to us.'^ 

The Indians replied that they had not seen the horse, biit that 
if it had been taken, it should be given up ; and continued along 
the shore, following the boats until they dropped anchor for the 
night. The next day they were visited by a party of fifty or six- 
ty chiefs and warriors, to whom they made the usual speeches 
and gave the usual presents. Inviting the chiefs on board the 
boat (for the reception had taken place on land), they showed 
them an air-gun, the boat itself, and all that they thought would 
furnish amusement to the visitors. In this purpose they suc- 
ceeded only too well, for they found it difficult to get rid of them. 
A quarter-glass of whiskey given to each one did not mend mat- 
ters any, but sucking the bottle and finding there was no more, 
the chief finally consented to accompany Captain Clarke and five 
men on shore. But they had formed a plan to stop the party. 
20 



308 LEWIS ApTP CLARKE EXPEDITION. 

Two of the Indians prevented ire boat from moving from tlie 
landing-place after this party had disembarked, and the second 
chief, affecting intoxication, said: 

" You no go on ; Indian keep you here. You give Indian heap 
more t'ings — not 'nough yet. Indian want heap more t'ings." 

"We will not be kept here/' answered Captain Clarke, indig- 
nantly; "we are not squaws, but warriors; our great father has 
sent us here, and he can send his soldiers and kill all the Indians 
in an hour if they do us any harm." 

" Indian have warriors too," answered the chief, gruffly, as he 
signalled to his men. 

Captain Clarke drew his sword instantly, and motioned to the 
men in the boat to prepare for action. The Indians surrounding 
him drew their arrows from their quivers and were bending their 
bows, when the swivel in the boat was instantly pointed towards 
them, and twelve of the most determined of the white men jump- 
ed into a pirogue and joined Captain Clarke. This promj)t act- 
ion alarmed the Indians, who drew off to a little distance to hold 
a council. Unwilling to leave an enemy in his rear. Captain 
Clarke resolved to conciliate them by a show of friendliness, and 
advanced toward them with extended hand. The principal and 
the second chief refused to take it, and he turned from them to- 
wards the river ; but before he had put thirty yards between the 
pirogue and the shore, the two chiefs and two warriors waded in 
after him, asking to be taken on board. 

Frightened into submission by this evidence that the white men 
were not to be trifled with, the Indians now spared no pains in 
their efforts to entertain the strangers suitably; the calumet was 
smoked, many dances, by both men and women, were performed 
for their amusement, and a bountiful feast of boiled dog, the fa- 
vorite delicacy of the Sioux, was provided for their refreshment. 
It seems, however, that these Indians either could not or would 
not produce the horse-thief. 

Fox" a long time they continued their journey in this way, stoj)- 
ping to ;-eeeivo visits from bands of the Sioux, who were uni- 
formly well disposed. To follow them throughout the journey, 
day by day, would require more space than can here be allotted; 
the reader desirous of doing so will find McYickar's edition of 
Allen's " History of the Expedition" a book as full of interest 
as any novel or newspaper. 

Early in November they decided to encamp for the winter, and 



LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 309 

commenced the huts which were to shelter them at a point which 
they called Fort Mandan, from the name of the tribe living around 
it, sixteen hundred miles from the mouth of the Missouri. Here, 
although suffering greatly from the severity of the season, they 
passed the winter; visited constantly by bands of Sioux, Mandan 
and Minnetaree Indians, among whom they often acted as peace- 
makers. They were bountifully supplied with vegetable food by 
these visitors from their stores of dried corn and squash, and the 
hunters found an abundance of game. 

In February, four men were despatched with sleds and three 
horses to bring up meat which had been collected by the hunters. 
About twenty-one miles below the fort, as they were jogging quiet- 
ly along, wdth no thought of any danger, a party of a hundred In- 
dians rushed upon them. To what tribe they belonged the men 
could not distinguish, so cunningly was the w^ar paint disj^oscd; 
but thought they w^ere Sioux. Ecsistance was useless and the 
marauders, cutting the traces, carried off two of the horses; the 
chief insisting that the third should be returned to the owners. 
Two knives were also taken. The men were permitted to return 
to the fort, no other injury having been done them. Captain 
Lewis immediately sent to the Mandans to inform them of the 
outrage, and to invite them to join a retaliatory party. Two of 
their chiefs came to the fort and said that most of their young 
men had gone hunting, and that there were but few guns in the 
village; but several Indians, armed with spears, battle-axes, 
bows and arrows, accompanied the expedition under Capt. Lewns 
the next morning. 

On reaching the place where the men had been attacked, they 
found one sled, and several pairs of moccasins, evidently belong- 
ing to the Sioux. Following the trail, they came on the next day 
to an old lodge belonging to the tribe w'hich had committed the 
depredation ; but the marauders, the better to conceal themselves, 
had burned it. The trail here left the river, and crossed the 
jilains ; so that it was useless to think of overtaking the thieves. 
Information Avas received, a few days later, that a party of Sioux 
had attacked a small body of friendly Indians, and killed fifty 
of them ; but Captain Lewis decided not to take active part in a 
war between the tribes unless in self-defense. 

Leaving the camp about the first of April, they were alarmed, 
on the eleventh of May, by a member of the party who had been 
on shore, who now came running toward the boat with every 



310 



iiEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION, 



symptom of fear and distress. A mile and a half below he had 
shot a large brown bear ; wounded and maddened by the pain, 
the huge animal had turned and pursued him ; but from weak- 
ness, by the loss of blood, could not overtake him. Captain 
Lewis and seven men immediately set out to find the bear j and 
tracking him by the blood to a thick brushwood, where he had 
dug with his paws a bed two feet deep, despatched him. This 
was their first conflict with the terrible animal, so dreaded that 




A CLOSE SHAVE. 



^' we had rather encounter two Indians than meet a single brown 
bear." The oil obtained from this one amounted to eight gallons. 
It was not to be the last bear encounter, however. Three days 
later, six experienced hunters, having discovered a large brown 
bear l^'ing in the open grounds, about three hundred paces from 
the river, came unperceived within forty paces of him. Four of 
them fired at the same instant, two balls passing through his lungs, 
two lodging in other jjarts of his body. Furiously the animal 
rushed towards them, his open mouth displaying the strong, cruel 
white teeth. A blow from a hunting knife partially disabled him, 
and the two who had reserved their fire now took aim, one ball 
breaking his shoulder. They had no time to reload; on the mad 



LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 311 

brute came with fearful rapidity; two jumped into the canoes ; the 
other four, separating, and concealing themselves in the willows, 
fired as fast as they could reload. Bruin seemed to bear a charmed 
life, for though every shot entered his hide, none seemed to aifect 
him ; as each man fired, he would rush furiously towards the 
direction from which the shot came. At last he pursued two so 
closely that they tLrcAv aside their guns and pouches, and jump- 
ed down a perpendicular bank into the river that ran twenty feet 
below. The bear followed, and was within a few feet of the 
hindmost when a well-aimed shot from one of the two left on the 
shore finished him. Dragging him to the bank, they took his 
skin, this trophy being pierced by eight balls. 

About a month later, when Captain Lewis had one day gone 
forward on foot, he met an immense herd of buffaloes. Level- 
ling his rifle, he shot one; it began to bleed, and v/ithout reload- 
ing he stood waiting for it to fall; not noticing a large brown 
bear which stole up to him until it was within twenty steps. It 
was the open, level plain ; not a bush or tree near ; the bank of 
the river a gradual slope; no chance for concealment; his onlj- 
hope lay in flight. As he turned, the bear rushed open-mouthed 
upon him. He ran about eighty yards, when, finding that the 
bear was gaining fast, it flashed upon his mind that by getting 
into the water to such a depth that the bear would have to at- 
tack him swimming, he might still have a chance for his life. 
Turning short, he plunged waist deep into the water, and facing 
about, presented the point of his knife to the advancing bear. On 
seeing his antagonist in this posture of defence, bruin retreated 
as precipitately as he had advanced. Resolving never again to 
suff'er his rifle to remain unloaded, Captain Lewis resumed his 
path along the Medicine Eiver. Reaching the camp, he found 
his men much alarmed as to his safety, having already decided 
upon the route each should take in the morning to look for him. 
Much fatigued, he slept well, not aware of the fact that a huge 
rattlesnake was coiled upon the trunk of the tree which shelter- 
ed his slumbers. The reptile was discovered and killed the next 
morning. 

Some time before this, the party had divided, there being con- 
siderable doubt as to which was the true Missouri ; one party 
ascending the stream now known as the Yellowstone; the other, 
under Captain Clarke, going up tlic Missouri and discovering the 
falls. Capt. Lewis' party had now reached the Missouri, having 



312 LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 

seen their mistake, and they were here joined by Capt. Clarke 
and his men. 

Much of the time was spent in the construction of a portable 
boat, the iron frame of which they had brought with them, and 
which was to be covered with skins. After much hard work in 
preparing the skins, fastening them securely together, and calk- 
ing the seams, they launched her, greatly elated at their success ; 
but the water dissolved the composition which they had used in 
place of pitch, which was unobtainable, and she leaked so badly 
that they had to give up the idea. 

They had learned that the country which they were now ap- 
proaching was inhabited by a powerful, and perhaps a hostile 
tribe, the Shoshonees ; and anxious to make peace with these, they 
proceeded with the greatest caution. A warlike reception from so 
large a tribe might result in the destruction of their small party. 
Having ascended the Missouri to those three forks which they 
named, respectively, for President Jefferson, Secretary of State 
Madison, and Secretary of the Treasury Gallatin, they came to a 
point five miles above where the first of these three divide into 
two branches. Here they encamped for the night and remained 
while Captain Lewis, accompanied by two men, set out to follow a 
trail which they hoped would lead to the Shoshonee camp, near 
the source of the Missouri. Their fears as to their reception by this 
tribe, however, were unfounded, as they Avere well received after 
they had succeeded in showing the Indians that there was no 
cause for alarm. Still the Shoshonees were jealous and suspi- 
cious, and it required all the address of which our travelers were 
masters to allay their disquietude. 

It was the eighteenth of August, 1805, when they reached the 
extreme navigable point of the Missouri. Here it was decided 
that Captain Clarke, with eleven men, furnished with the neces- 
sary arms and with tools for making canoes, should make the 
overland journey to the Columbia, and ascertain if the report 
which the Indians gave of that stream were true. Having come 
through such difficulties, it was not to be readily believed that 
they could not descend the Columbia when they had ascended 
the Missouri. An escort of Indians was obtained without much 
difficulty, and the party again separated for a time. 

Proceeding through a wide and level valley, which the Indians 
pointed out as the scene of a battle, about a year before, in which 
many of their bravest warriors had fallen, Captain Clarke soon 



LEWTS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 313 

found that his escort must be fed from his stores. The hunters 
were not able to kill anything, and this added materially to his 
anxiety. Various bands of Indians gave the same account of 
the country through which they must pass, whether they kept 
directly towards the west, or turned towards the southwest. It 
was a tale to appal a brave man ; a fierce and warlike people 
dwelling in caves, and living principally upon horses stolen from 
those who passed the mountains; a passage so rough that horses, 
lame and wounded, would be unable to go on ; a parched and 
sandy desert, ten days' journey in width, where no animals fit 
for food were found, and where they and the few horses that re- 
mained would perish of thirst. The northern passage was then 
selected, the explorers reasoning that they could cross where the 
Indians, with their women and children, were in the habit of 
passing from one point to the other. 

They soon discovered the object of the Shoshonees in telling 
them of such dangers ; the wish to keep them through the winter 
for protection, and to secure as many gifts as possible j but after 
almost incredible difficulty in obtaining enough horses for the 
journey and a supply of food, they reached a river to which they 
gave the name of Cai:)tain Lewis ; a few days later, they came to 
Clarke Eiver; and on the thirteenth of September the party was 
again united. 

Journeying through a country where the strong and barbed 
thorns of the prickly pear lacerated the feet of men and horses, 
where the middle of September saw a fall of snow six or eight 
inches in depth, where no living creature c©uld be seen, except a 
few small pheasants and gray squirrels that could not be obtained 
for food, with their stock of provisions reduced to a few cans of 
portable soup, they grew weak and sick from fatigue and insuffi- 
cent food. At last they came to an Indian village, where they 
were kindly received and bountifully fed. These were of the 
tribe known to us as the Nez Perces ; their chief was absent at 
the time with a war party, but the explorers mafiaged to secure 
a good supply of food in return for small presents. 

They had now traveled over the mountainous region between 
the southern and northern forks of the Lewis, at a point where 
the distance in a straight line is about one hundred miles. Weak- 
ened by want, fatigue and disease, they determined to descend 
the river by canoes, five of which were accordingly constructed 
at their camp on the Kooskooskeo, a branch of North Fork. The 



814 LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 

plain into which they had now descended had a milder climate 
than they had lately experienced, and had they found the Nez 
Perces as obliging as the Shoshonees, their journey might have 
been expedited; but this tribe, working hard all summer for the 
winter supply of dried salmon and roots, hunting deer through 
the winter, and crossing the mountains in the spring to trade, 
was but little disposed to return any of the favors shown them, 
and developed a talent for bargaining which seems to have been 
quite distasteful to the party accustomed to get a large amount 
of provisions for a few trinkets. These Indians looked on with 
contemptuous surprise, as the v/hite men, unable to obtain other 
food, killed and cooked a number of dogs. This dish, of which 
they had eaten but sj^aringly when the tribes east of the moun- 
tains had offered it to them, they found not unpalatable after a 
long course of horse-flesh. 

As they floated from the Lewis into the Columbia, and down 
the latter river, they were constantly visited by large bands of 
Indians. As they approached the coast, some Nez Perces, who 
had accompanied them, grew uneasy at the idea of entering a 
country inhabited by a hostile tribe, and desired to return. Their 
keen eyes saw that the unusual reserve and caution of the visit- 
ors betokened an attack. Our travelers, however, succeeded in 
persuading them to remain until after the passage of the falls 
they were approaching. 

They reached the mouth of the Columbia early in November, 
and encamped for the winter of 1805-6 ; constantly visited by 
the Indians, who had been accustomed to trading with the whites, 
and were never satisfied with any price given them. They dared 
not show hostility in any other mode, however, than by ill-hu- 
mor and petty thefts. 

After the cessation of a ten days' rain in November, they occu- 
pied their time in exploring the neighboring coast, in curing the 
meat with which the hunters provided them, and in dressing 
skins for clothing. Leaving in charge of the Indians, and posted 
up in their houses, papers bearing a brief description of their 
journey, they set out towards the east on March twenty -third. 

We need not follow their course closely. The Indians were 
still ill-humored, and disinclined to trade ; but as they again ap- 
proached the Kooskooskee, a new means of obtaining supplies 
presented itself, and they turned physicians. The journal of the 
party does not speak in enthusiastic terms of either skill or sue- 



LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 815 

cess, though perhaj^s the certainty that their simple prescriptions 
could at least do no harm would not be shared by every better- 
trained physician ; the patients, however, had no fault to find, 
one exchanging a fine maro for a vial of eye-water. Their fame 
preceded them, and at the next village, where their whole stock 
of merchandise could not purchase food, fifty patients awaited 
them. The fee for each cure ranged from a lean and hungry dog 
to a fat horse; but it must be observed that payment rewarded 
cure, not treatment. 

As thfey approached the mountains, they found the tribes more 
hospitable, one chief professing himself greatly insulted when 
asked to exchange a fat horse for one unfit for food, and present- 
ing them with several animals in excellent condition. These In- 
dians were but poorly fed, since the character of their arms pre- 
vented much success in hunting; and the occasional gift of the 
flesh of animals which the white hunters killed was accepted with 
demonstrative gratitude. This tribe is described as the most 
amiable they had yet found, yet a favorite Choj)unnish ornament 
was a tippet of human scalps, fringed with the thumbs and fin- 
gers of enemies slain in battle. 

It was not until June that they were enabled to cross the moun- 
tains, where, even then, they suffered much from the cold in jour- 
neying over the snow-clad ridges. Their stock of merchandise 
gave out, and they could only replenish it by cutting the but- 
tons off their clothes, and by spending some time in the manu- 
facture of eye-water. They also suffered much from unsuitable 
and insufficient food, as their hunters were able to kill but little 
game, but at last reached the banks of Maria's Eiver, where they 
decided to remain for two days to take some observations and 
rest their horses. 

As they proceeded along this river, they met with more decided 
hostility than the Indians had as yet dared to show. Ascending 
the hills close to the river, one of their number, a Canadian half- 
breed named Drewyer, proceeded along the valley on the other 
side. From their elevated path, they soon saw a party of In- 
dians looking intently at Drewyer. They had already learned 
that the Blackfeet were not disposed to bo friendly, so that this 
was by no means a welcome sight. Supposing a large number to 
be near at hand, they were unwilling to risk a fight, and retreat 
would only invite a pursuit which, since their horses were so 
bad, would be only too successful. They determined, therefore, 



316 



LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 



to make the best of it, and flag in hand, advanced slowly tow- 
ards the Indians. The attention of the Blackfeet was so en- 
tirely directed to Drewyer, that they did not for some time dis- 
cover this advance, which evidently threw them into the greatest 
confusion. The whole party of eight w^arriors, being reassured 
by the friendly signs and movements of Captain Lewis, finally 
came toward them, dismounted and smoked with them, while « 









KILLIXQ THE THIEF. 



messenger was sent for Drewyer. Captain Lewis learned that 
his susj)icions were, unfortunately, not without foundation ; these 
were indeed Blackfeet, whose thievishness was well known ; but 
feeling themselves quite able to cope with eight Indians, poorly 
armed, they encamped together. 

Finding them very fond of the pipe. Captain Lewis, who wish- 
ed to keep a close watch during the night, smoked with them un- 
til a late hour. As soon as they were asleep, he awoke one of 
the Fields brothers, ordering him to arouse all in case any of the 
Indians left the camp, as they would probably attempt to steal 
horses ; and lay down in the tent with all the Indians, the two 



LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 317 

brothers lying near the fire at the entrance. Awaking at sunrise, 
one of the Indians seized, unperceived, the rifles of the v/vo men 
in the tent. The sentinel, turning, saw the state of aflfairs, and pur- 
sued him for fifty or sixty yards. As he came up with him, a 
scuffle ensued, the rifle was recovered and the Indian killed. 

Drewyer and Captain Lewis lay side by side in the tent, their 
rifles near them ready for use at a moment's notice. Silently two 
Indians stole towards them, as their comrade seized the two other 
weapons, and laid hold of these. The moment the savage touched 
his gun, Drewyer, who was awake, jumped up and wrested it from 
him. . The noise awoke Captain Lewis, who instantly started 
from the ground and reached to get his gun j but, finding it gone, 
he drew a pistol from his belt, and turning about, saw an Indian 
making off with the rifle. Following him at full speed, he order- 
ed him to lay it down. As the Indian stooped to obey this order, 
the two Fields, who had just come up, took aim at him. 

"Don't fire," shouted Captain Lewis, "he doesn't seem to in- 
tend any mischief." 

Drewyer begged permission to shoot him, but Captain Lewis, 
wishing to j)i*cserve peaceful relations if possible, forbade it. But 
finding that the Indians were now endeavoring to drive off all 
the horses, he ordered the men to follow up the main party, who 
were chasing the horses up the river, and to fire instantly upon 
the thieves j while he, without taking time to run for his shot- 
pouch, pursued the fellow who had stolen his gun and another 
Indian, who were driving away the horses on the left of the camp. 
Pressed so closely that they were obliged to leave twelve of the 
horses behind them, they entered a steep niche in the river bluffs. 
Too much out of breath to pursue them any farther, Captain Lew- 
is called out that unless they gave up the one horse they retained, 
he would fire. As he raised his gun one of them jumped behind 
a rock, and spoke to the other. The second made no attempt to 
conceal himself, and fell as Captain Lewis shot. Having no oth- 
er load for his gun, and but one in his pistol, he thought best to 
retreat. 

Although the death of this Indian had probably much to do 
with the treachery and hostility which the Blackfeet afterward 
always showed to the whites, our explorers did not come off 
badly in this engagement. The savages had made off with one 
horse, but four of their own animals, four shields, two bows with 
quivers and one of their guns were left in the camp. Little 



318 LEWIS AND CLARKE EXPEDITION. 

doubting that they would be immediately pursued by a larger 
party, the whites pushed on as fast as they possibly could, travel- 
ing about a hundred miles before, almost exhausted with fatigue, 
they halted at two o'clock in the morning; setting oif again, sore 
and scarcely able to stand, at daylight. 

Happily, they were not pursued, and escaped in safety. The 
theft of many of their horses by Indians that they could not 
overtake compelled them to make skin canoes in which to de- 
scend the river. Captain Lewis received a flesh-wound from the 
discharge of a gun that he thought belonged to one of his own 
men, who had mistaken him, in his dress of skins, for an elk -, it 
proved, however, to have been a lurking Indian. This gave him 
considerable trouble, and it was not until late in August that he 
recovered. 

As they descended the river, there were frequent alarms as to 
the movements of Indian w^ar-parties, but happily they were not 
again to suff'er from their depredations. Only a few councils 
with the tribes that had been friendly on their route toward the 
west varied the monotony of the journey ; and they reached St. 
Louis in safety on the twenty-third of September, 1806, "where," 
says the journal, "we received a most hearty and hospitable wel- 
come from the w^hole village." 

The total length of their route from St. Louis to the mouth of 
the Columbia was more than four thousand miles; the return 
being shortened by nearly six hundred miles. They treated with 
all the principal tribes along their route, and besides furnishing 
a map, tolerably accurate even for the present day, described with 
considerable fullness the plants and animals of that section. As 
the immediate results of this expedition, many traders ventured 
into the newly explored country, and established posts, which, 
like the small settlements of the Spanish missionaries, were the 
first foundations of the present constantly growing population of 
the Great "West. It must be remembered, however, that neither 
of these elements advanced the settlement of the country as the 
building of frontier forts contributed to the growth of Kentucky. 
The traders endeavored to keep all others out of the country, 
that their business might not suffer ; and the rule of the Spaniards 
has never been beneficial to any part of America. The hardy 
pioneers of our own race, accustomed to govern and defend them- 
selves, as well as to live by their labor, are the settlers that ad- 
vance the prosperity of a new country. 



CHAPTEK XIIL 



GEN. WILLIAM HENEY HAEEISON. 

"T"T~riLLIA]V[ Henry Harrison, the only son of that Benjamin 
VV Harrison who introduced into the Continental Congress 
the resolution declaring the independence of the colonies, and 
who, a few weeks later, affixed his signature to the more formal 
Declaration, was born in Virginia in the early part of the year 
1773. G-raduating at Hampden Sidney College, he studied med- 
icine, but before he had graduated the barbarities of the Indians 
upon the western frontier so excited his feelings that he resolved 
to give up his first choice of a profession for that of arms. His 
guardian vainly endeavored to dissuade him from the project; 
General Washington cordially approved of his determination, 
and gave him a commission as ensign of artillery. 

Though but nineteen years old when he joined his corps at 
Fort Washington on the Ohio, he soon found an opportunity to 
distinguish himself. A reinforcement being ordered by Gen. St. 
Clair to proceed to Fort Hamilton, the young ensign was ap- 
pointed to the command of the party. The "country swarmed 
with Indians, and all the skill and vigilance which the young of- 
ficer could command were necessary to success ; but the expedi- 
tion was accomplished in safety, and the leader rewarded in the 
following year (1792) with a lieutenancy. Victory favored first 
one side, then the other, in this contest between the United States 
and the Indians, but the army under General Wayne, which Hai*- 
rison joined in 1793, was destined to close the war. 

When, in October of that year. Gen. Wayne marched forward 
to the country of the Miami tribe of Indians, he sent a detach- 
ment to take possession of the ground where Gen. St. Clair, his 
predecessor in command, had a disastrous defeat. Lieutenant 
Harrison volunteered for the service, and was accepted by the 
commander. Arrived at the fatal field, he took possession of it, 
interred with military honors the bones that for two years had 



320 GENERAL WILLIAM HEXRY HARRISON. 

whitened the ground, and erected Fort Eeeoveiy. Again, in the 
famous battle of the Fallen Timbers,did the "wild courage of Mad 
Anthony Wayne animate his troops, and the Indians were com- 
pletely defeated. "With the true generosity of a hero, the gen- 
eral, in his official account of the battle, compliments his young, 
faithful and gallant aide-de-camp, Lieutenant Harrison, as having 
rendered him the most essential service in communicating his 
orders in every direction, and for his conduct and bravery. The 
consequence of this display of courage and generous recognition 
of it was a promotion, soon after the close of the campaign, to 
the rank of captain, the command of Fort Washington being given 
him. 

Here he remained in comparative quiet until 1798, when the 
civil appointment of Secretary of the Northwestern Territory 
was given him; and a year later, on the organization of a terri- 
torial government, he was elected as the delegate to Congress. 
Although holding the office but one year, he performed a most 
important service for the new territory, and one which contrib- 
uted greatly to the speedy settlement of the west. This was in se- 
curing the passage of a bill permitting the sale of small tracts of 
land, in place of parcels of four thousand acres, which had been 
the least quantity obtainable from any but speculators. During his 
term of office, the territory was divided, and at the expiration 
of the j-ear for which he had been elected, President Adams ap- 
pointed him governor of that part called Indiana. 

Fitly was the new territory named the Country of the Indians, 
for in all that vast expanse, stretching westward to the Missis- 
sippi, there Avere but three settlements : Clark's Grant, a hun- 
dred and fifty thousand acres in extent, at the falls of the Ohio j 
the old French settlement at and around Yincennes ; and a tract 
of about sixty miles in length bordering on the Mississippi, from 
Kaskaskia to Cahokia, nearly opposite the thriving little town 
of St. Louis. About five thousand souls, all told, comprised the 
population of this territory, which now supports some seven mil- 
lions. The Indians were naturally hostile, and the incessant in- 
trigues of the British agents were only too often successful in in- 
citing them to depredations. Wishing to prevent the extensive 
settlement of the frontier provinces, and to secure a monopoly 
of the fur trade, the British government kept in its employ agents 
who industriously set afloat among the Indians reports calculated 
to excite a jealous hostility to the Americans. The United States 



GENERAL WILLIA.M HENRY HARRISON. 321 

government aimed to purchase of the Indians the land needed for 
settlements, to introduce among the savages the arts of civilized 
life; but the English represented this as a plan intended only to 
enervate the natives, and leave them unfit for war. The refusal 
to allow liquor to be sold to them vras especially enlarged upon. 

"■ See how good our great father. King George, is to you. He 
loves his red children so much that he wishes them to have plenty 
of all good things, everything they wish for. He tells us to give 
you plenty of rum." 

Shortly after his appointment, Gov. Harrison was visited by 
the chiefs of most of the nations inhabiting the territory under 
his rule. Doleful was the story that they told of their people 
killed, their lands seized by the settlers, their game wantonly 
destroyed, their young men made drunk and cheated of the skins 
which were to buy necessary stores of clothing, arms, and am- 
munition for hunting. The governor could not doubt the truth 
of these complaints, supported as they were In- unquestionable 
evidence, but the uncertain limits of his jurisdiction rendered it 
difficult to give the Indians satisfaction. While many of the tribes 
were not disposed then to make war upon the settlers, yet he saw 
that the jjrovocations of which they spoke Avould jDowerfully 
operate in favor of any European nation that might declare 
war, and the Indians would be ready, with such protection and 
assistance, for incursions upon the settlements. 

But the town of Vincennes was daily visited by the Indians in 
considerable numbers, who, becoming intoxicated, committed 
many crimes. 3Iurders of their own race occurred in the streets, 
the houses of the citizens were forced open, stock killed, and 
fences broken down. The unprovoked murder of two citizens 
awoke revenge ; the murderer was pursued and shot. Indig- 
nant at this, the tribe assembled, waiting for a favorable oppor- 
tunity to retaliate, but quickly dispersed when the militia was 
ordered out. 

Harrison spared no effort to conciliate the Indians, and at the 
same time to enforce justice in the whole territory under his 
government. In the period from 1800 to 1804, treaties were con- 
cluded by which nearly sixt}' million acres were sold to the Uni- 
ted States by the Indians, But these vast purchases had aroused 
the suspicions of some of the Indians. Tavo chiefs of the Shaw- 
ncos saw, like Pontiac, to what the Indian race was tending, and 
were willing to try much the same plan in resisting this fate that 



322 



GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 



he had tried. The " "Wild Cat springing on its prey" and the 
"Loud Voice" are the meanings assigned to the Indian names 
Tecumseh and Elskwatawa, the chief and the prophet, who now 
sought to combine all the western tribes in an alliance against 
the whites. 

Doubt existed for some time as to the intentions of the Indian 
brothers, Gov. Harrison being at a loss to decide for or against 
their friendliness for many years after the germ of the union had 
been formed. Whatever may have been his desires later, the 
earlier efforts of Te- 
cumseh were directed 
to the reformation of 
his people, naturally 
unfitted for continuous 
effort of any kind and 
enervated by the ex- 
cesses into which they 
had fallen during their 
contact with the whites. 
So far had they degen- 
erated from the an- 
cient standard, that 
Harrison asserts in his 
official letters to Wash- 
ington, that he could 
tell at a glance an In- 
dian living in the vi- 
cinity of the town from 
one living at a consid- 
erable distance. The 
effort to reform his 
people led the savage statesman, Tecumseh, to desire such a union 
as Pontiac had wished — one which would enable the Indians to 
successfully resist the encroachments of the whites. 

Nor was Tecumseh the only one of his nation who held exalted 
views of the destiny of the Shawnees. At a conference held by 
the chiefs of the various tribes and Gov. Harrison, in the year 
1803, one of them gave vent to this wonderful story : 

" The Master of Life was himself an Indian. He made the 
Shawnees before any others of the human race. They sprang 
from his brain, and he gave them all the knowledge he pos- 




^^^< 



QyZ^Lyt^^vh^^ 



GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISuN. S23 

sessed. After he had made the Shawnees, he made the French 
and English out of his breast, the Dutch out of his feet, and the 
Long-knives (Americans) out of his hands." 

An Indian orator's history of the creation is usually invented 
for the occasion, and this one proceeded to apply the facts he had 
gravely stated by saying that since all the knowledge that the 
whites possessed was really the property of the Shawnees, from 
whom the Master of Life had borrowed it for the whites for 
a little while, the white peojile had really no right to the articles 
which this knowledge enabled them to make — all their blankets, 
beads, guns, etc., rightfully belonged to the Shawnees. 

Tecumseh, the son of a Shawnee warrior and a Creek squaw, 
was born about the year 1770, some authorities placing the date 
as early as 1768, others as late as 1771. The prophet, sometime? 
called his twin brother, was probably younger. From his boy- 
hood the elder had a passion for war; the sham battle-field being 
the scene of his usual pastimes, and activity, strength and skill 
distinguished him in the mimic fights in which he was alwaj'S 
a leader. When the day closed, and such amusements were no 
longer possible, the boys would gather back of the warriors who 
were clustered around the camp-fire, telling stories of the occur- 
rences of the day. The Revolutionary War formed the main 
subject until his manhood had nearly arrived; and after that 
war closed, the fierce border warfare furnished accounts of per- 
petual skirmishing and scalping. He eagerly drank in the words 
of the old chiefs regarding the times before the advent of the 
whites, and about their broken treaties and promises. 

In his first battle, which occurred when he was sixteen or eigh- 
teen years old, Tecumseh is said to have fled in fright from the 
field of battle; but in the second he fought like a young lion, 
completely wiping out the stain of cowardice. This was an attack 
upon some flat-boats descending the Ohio, and all the boatmen 
were killed but one, who was reserved for the torture. Strangely 
enough, since it could not have been an unusual occurrence, the 
young warrior had never before witnessed such a scene. Filled 
with horror, he remonstrated against the practice with such elo- 
quence that his hearers agreed that they would never burn an^ 
other prisoner. Such was the power that his great mind had al- 
ready gained over his people. 

One great influence that Tecumseh used over the tribe was a 

superstitious one. The prophet is not an uncommon character 
21 



324 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 

among the Indians, who are exceedingly superstitious ; and they 
believe most firmly in his power to foretell events and to avert 
threatened misfortunes. Elskwatawa shared, to some extent, in 
the great talents of his brother, but, to reverse the expression 
of an old author: ''His virtues another's, his faults were his 
own." He was neither courageous nor truthful, but cunning, 
sharp and boastful. Even more eloquent than the chief, his man- 
ner was said to be more graceful than that of any other Indian ; 
the less said about his j)ersonal beauty, the better. There can be 
no doubt, however, that, like Tecumseh, he really sought the 
good of his people. "With all his vanity, deception, superstition 
and craft, he doubtless believed that he was advocating measures 
for their good. 

In November, 1805, Elskwatawa first formally declared him- 
self a prophet in a speech made to an assembly consisting of 
many of his own nation and of the kindred tribes, "Wyandots, 
Ottawas and Senecas, in northern Ohio. Professing to have been 
to heaven, he denounced two practices common among the In- 
dians, witch-craft and drunkenness, and so great was the ascen- 
dancy which his eloquence obtained over them that he prevailed 
upon many of them to abstain from strong drink. In this, Te- 
cumsch's influence is seen, but the persecutions for witchcraft 
were all the Prophet's work, resulting in many executions, even 
of chiefs. 

So far did he go in this matter, supported by the superstitious 
terrors of his tribe, that Gov. Harrison was obliged to send a let- 
ter of remonstrance to the Delawares, urging them, in the name 
of the Seventeen Fires (States), to require of this prophet some 
proof that his pretensions were true. But this did not accomplish 
the end that he desired; for a time, indeed, the persecutions 
ceased, but the influence of Elskwatawa was increased by his ac- 
cepting Gov. Harrison's challenge to work miracles. Hearing 
by chance from a white man that an eclipse of the sun would oc- 
cur on a certain day, he boldly announced that on such a day he 
would i^rove his supernatural power by making darkness come 
over the sun. At the appointed time, the Prophet, standing in 
the midst of his assembled tribe at mid-day, cried out, when all 
grew dark around them : 

" Did I not i>rophesy truly ? Behold ! Darkness has come over 
the sun, as I told you." 

This established him more firmly in the esteem of the tribes. 



GENERAL WILLIAM HENEY HARRISON. 



325 



and his influence increased. About a year later, in April, 1807, 
he had gathered around him nearly four hundred Indians, greatly 
excited by religious fanaticism and ready to join in any enter- 
prise into which the brothers should lead them. G-reat alarm 
was felt all along the border when the strength of the Indians 
became known, and their designs appeared to be suspicious. In 
order to learn their object in gathering so many warriors around 
them, the agent at Port Wayne sent a half-breed Shawnee with 
a request that Tecumseh and the Prophet, attended by two other 
chiefs, should visit him, that he might read to them a letter just 

received from their great fa- 
ther. The message was deliv- 
ered in council, but the great 
chief did not deign to ask 
advice. 

"Go back to Fort "Wayne, 
and tell Captain Wells that my 
council fire is kindled on the 
spot appointed by the Great 
Spirit, and that here I will hear 
any message that the great 
father in Washington may send 
me. If he has anything to say 
to me from the great father, I 
will expect him here in six 
days." 

JSTor would he abate an inch 
of his royal dignity, and Cap- 
tain Wells' letter remained un- 




ELSKWATAWA, "THE PKOPHET.' 



read. The excitement among the Indians increased, and by the 
first of May, it was estimated, fifteen hundred Indians had visit- 
ed the Prophet, coming from all quarters. Many came from a 
great distance, and the great assembling of councils, the mes- 
sengers sent from tribe to tribe with belts of wampum and with 
pipes, showed that some uncommon movement was on foot. It 
was ascertained that English agents were busily at work, but 
all plans were studiously concealed from the Americans. 

Several councils were held during this year between the two 
races, the Indians insisting that the treaty made at Greenville 
about twelve years before did not prescribe the boundaries which 
the white men claimed. Tecumsch's fiery eloquence, defying the 



326 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 

skill of the interpreter, traced the history of the white man's 
dealings with the Indians, and in its object and effect only stop- 
ped short of breaking up the council ; his speeches were, as he 
had intended, repeated at every camp-fire. 

In 1808, great numbers of Indians came flocking from the neigh- 
borhood of the Great Lakes to visit the Prophet, and prolonged 
their visit until their provisions were entirely exhausted. Gk)v- 
ernor Harrison thought it prudent, as well as benevolent, to sup- 
ply them with food from the public stores at Fort Wayne. To 
the Indian agent who carried out this order, it did not appear 
that the followers of the Prophet had any hostile intentions re- 
garding the Americans j it was simply a religious reformation 
that he was preaching. But succeeding this reformation, in the 
following year, came the political movement, when Tecumseh's 
importance became greater than his brother's. 

In the spring of 1808, the Pottawatomies and the Kickapoos 
granted Tecumseh and Elskwatawa a tract of land on the Tip- 
pecanoe, one of the tributaries of the Wabash. Here, with about 
forty Shawnees, and something less than a hundred Indians from 
other tribes, they established themselves in spite of the remon- 
strances of the Delawares and the Miamis, and the village known 
as Prophet's Town was built. In June, having determined to 
pay a visit to Gov. Harrison, the Prophet sent a messenger to 
say that he and Tecumseh wished to live in peace with the 
whites. Having thus paved the way for a reception, he proceeded 
to Yincennes in August. 

Governor Harrison had noticed the evil eifect of liquor upon 
the red man, and in his communications to the Department at 
Washington we find frequent remonstrances against allowing it 
be sold to him. But the love of gain was uncontrollable, and the 
traders continued to sell the liquid fire, which soon kindled a 
flame that threatened to consume the border settlements. When, 
therefore, he saw that Elskwatawa really desired that whisky 
should be kept from the Indians, and that he had succeeded in 
reforming many of them in this particular, the governor was dis- 
posed to form a very favorable opinion of the Prophet. 

In a long speech to Gov. Harrison he detailed the system of 
religion of which he professed to be the exponent, and narrated 
his experience during the three years that he had endeavored to 
benefit his people; closing with the Indian's usual conclusion to 
a speech made to the white man, a request for gifts. Beneath all 



GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 



327 



his ignorance, persecuting fanaticism, and imposture, Gov. Har- 
rison thouglit he saw a real ambition to be a benefactor to the 
Indians, and respected him for it. Witli a sui:)ply of provisions 
the Propliet returned to the Tippecanoe, having completely out- 
witted the governor. 

But while Elskwatawa thus appeared to be the mainspring of 
this movement, there was a yet greater man in the background. 
A thousand years ago, the aged seer said to the prince whose 
throne had been usurped by a warrior of renown : 

"Know how to wait, and the kingdom will come to thee," 

This was Tecumseh's great power — the ability to wait the 
proper place for the execution of his plans. When this time 
came, he calmly set aside the j^rophet, and asserted his own supe- 
rior qualities as a leader. Even his brother's fame and power 
were made to serve his own jDurpose, to further his plans for form- 
ing a vast confederacy of the Indian tribes, which should restrain 
the whites from farther encroachment, perhaps even to drive 
them to the country east of the Alleghanies. For three or four 
years he traveled all over the country, visiting the various tribes, 
and exerting all the magic of his eloquence to induce them to 
join the league. 

In April, 1809, the Indian agent stationed at Fort Wayne in- 
formed Grov. Harrison that he had heard the Prophet had ordered 
the Indians to take up arms to exterminate the white settlers at 
Vincennes and along the banks of the Ohio; this being the order 
of the Great Spirit, who would utterly destroy those who ven- 
tured to disobey them. This was probably an ambitious scheme 
of the Prophet's own, during Tecumseh's absence. Only a hun- 
dred warriors were actually with him, but reliable information 
came that four or five times that number were within fifty miles 
of headquarters, awaiting only the signal to fall upon the whites. 
He therefore immcdiatel}^ organized two companies of volunteer 
militia, and garrisoned Fort Knox, two miles from Vincennes, 
This, and similar energetic measures, appeared to frighten the 
Prophet, who was never very courageous, and who, like all In- 
dians, would not strike at an enemy who was on his guard; so 
the threatened attack was never made. 

In July he visited the governor at Yincennes, with a train of 
about forty warriors, and meekly but earnestly denied any part 
in the plot; claiming to have actually dissuaded the tribes from 
the hostilities they had planned. But Gov. Harrison no longer 



32g GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 

believed in the Prophet's sincerity. A few months before, he had 
solemnly promised to make known to the Americans any plots 
which might be formed against them, and he now admitted hav- 
ing been 2:)resscd both by other tribes and by the British to join 
in a league against the United States. 

The cloud darkened over the s-cattered and exposed settlements 
in Indiana. Xews came that the followers of Tecumseh and the 
Prophet numbered, now four hundred, now eight hundred, and 
that as many more would respond to the Prophet's call. The 
Indians refused to buy powder and shot from the American trad- 
ers, hinting that they could get plenty from the British without 
paying for it. The strength of the league continued to increase, 
and the Wyandots, greatly esteemed among the other tribes for 
their wisdom and valor, came into the union. The great belt, 
the symbol of union between the tribes in the previous war, was 
given into the keeping of this latest accession, w^ho also pos- 
sessed the original copy of the treaty of Greenville. 

In the meantime Tecumseh had been among the Shawnees on 
the Auglaize, trying to induce them to further his scheme; but 
the old chief, Black Hoof, the head of the Shawnee nation, 
resolutely opposed his eiforts. Present at the defeat of Braddock, 
fifty-five years before, he had seen too clearly, in the course of 
his long life, how useless were all attempts of Indians to drive 
back the whites; he had signed the treaty of Greenville, and 
from that time actively opposed all war with the settlers. Such 
was the ascendency which his office and his personal character 
gave him over his people that all Tecumseh's eloquence was in 
vain, and the greater i:)art of the tribe remained faithful to the 
treaty. 

In June, a deputation of the friendly Pottawatomies visited 
Gov. Harrison, and gave him information regarding the Prophet's 
plans. Every exertion was to be made by him to gain the sup- 
port of the tribes west of the ^Fississippi ; and that secured, De- 
troit, Fort Wayne, Chicago, St. Louis and Yincennes were all to 
be surprised. He had failed in his attempt to influence some of 
the nearer tribes, by reason of the arguments which the Dela- 
wares, friendly to the Americans, used to these whose decision 
still hung in the balance. Every effort was made by the Prophet 
to secure the assistance of the tribes, more than one execution 
for witchcraft being referred to his desire to frighten the chiefs 
into joining him. <: 



GENERAL M'lLLIAM IIE.VRV HARRISON. o29 

Immediately upon the receii^t of this information, Gov. Har- 
rison sent two confidential agents to Tippecanoe to discover the 
designs of the Prophet, Kindly received hy Elskwatawa, the 
following conversation ensued : 

" The governor," said the agent, !Mr. Dubois, '^ has seen that 
the Indians are unfriendly to the Americans, and that they are 
combining for a purpose that he does not know. AVhy does Elsk- 
"watawa hate the United States, the peo^^le of his great father at 
Washington ? Why has he gathered so many warriors together, 
and armed them with new rifles? The Long-Knives are not in 
the dark ; they can see what he has been doing, and their war- 
riors are arming themselves and getting ready to fight, both here 
and in Kentuck}-. But they do not wish to fight, unless the In- 
dians compel them to do so ; all this is for defense, and Elskwa- 
tawa and his people will live in peace as long as they do not plot 
mischief to the white man." 

" The Great Spirit has fixed the spot for the Indian to kindle 
his camp-fire, and he dare not go to any other. Elskwatawa's 
and his brother Tecumseh's must be on the banks of the Tippe- 
canoe, or the Great Spirit would be angry with them. Evil birds 
have carried false news to my fother, the governor. Let him 
not believe that Elskwatawa the Prophet wishes to make war up- 
on him and his people; lot him not listen to the evil birds that 
carry false news." 

"■ How has the great father at Washington injured your peo- 
ple ? Say how it has been done, and you will be righted." 

" The Indians have been cheated out of thgir lands ; the white 
men have bought from the chiefs of the towns, who had no right 
to sell. Onl}' the whole tribe can sell lands." 

Mr. Dubois told him that he ought to go to Yincennos and -pve- 
sent his complaints to the governor, but this he refused to do, al- 
leging that he had been badly treated on the former visit. The 
agent, after a little more talk, of small interest, went back to re- 
port to the governor. Soon after this visit, four canoes, filled 
with the Prophet's followers, descended the Wabash; these In- 
dians, stopping at a settlement a little above Vincennes, attend- 
ed a Shaker meeting on Sunday, behaving with great propriety 
while there, but winding up their Sabbath by stealing five horses. 

A second messenger to the Prophet was less kindly received 
than Mr. Dubois had been. Conducted into the presence of Elsk- 
watawa and his principal men, he was left standing at a distance 



330 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 

of about ten feet Trom where they were sitting. The Prophet 
looked at him for a few moments without speaking, and. appar- 
ently without recognizing him. At last, in a tone expressive of 
anger and scorn, he said : 

"Why do you come here? Brouilette was here; he was a spy. 
Dubois was here; he was a spy. Now you have come; you are a 
spy. There is your grave." 

From a lodge near by issued the majestic form of Tecumseh, 
who said, in a cold and haughty tone : 

" Your life is in no danger. Say why you have come among us." 
The messenger, in reply, read a letter from Gov. Harrison, urg- 
ing upon them the necessity of submitting to the government. 

"I know your warriors are brave," he said, "but ours are not 
less so. What can a few brave warriors do against the innumer- 
able warriors of the Seventeen Fires? Our blue-coats are more 
numerous than you can count; our hunters are like the leaves 
of the forest, or the grains of sand on the Wabash. Do not think 
that the red-coats can protect you ; they are not able to j)rotect 
themselves. They do not think of going to war with us. If they 
did, you would in a few moons see our flag wave over all the forts 
of Canada. What reason have you to complain of the Seventeen 
Fires? Have they taken anything from you? Have they ever 
violated the treaties made with the red men? You say they have 
purchased lands from those who had no right to sell them. Show 
that this is so and the land will be instantly restored. Show us 
the rightful owners. I have full power to arrange this business ; 
but if you would rather carry your complaints before your great 
father at Washington, you shall be indulged." 

Pleased with the governor's speech, Tecumseh said that he 
would now go to Yincennes and show the governor that he had 
been listening to bad men when he was told that the Indians 
wished to make war. He had never been to see the governor, 
but remembered him as a very young man riding beside Gen. 
Wayne. Thirty of his principal men, he said, would attend him, 
but the party Avould probably be larger, as many of the young 
men would wish to go. l^Totwithstanding the request which the 
governor made, on hearing this, that but a few should come, four 
hundred descended the Wabash on the twelfth of August. Paint- 
ed in the most terrific manner, they were well prepared for war 
in case of an attack. 

Governor Harrison had made arrangements for holding the 



GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 



331 



council on the portico of his own house, and here, attended by 
civil and military officers, a small guard of soldiers, and man}- 
of the citizens ofYincennes, he awaited the arrival of Tecumseh. 
It was the fifteenth of August, 1810. At the hour appointed for 
the council, Tecumseh, attended by about forty of his warriors, 
made his appearance, with much dancing and various curious 
incantations by the Prophet. Advancing within thirty or forty 
yards of the house, the chief suddenly halted, as if await i'lg 
some movement on the part of the governor. An interpreter 




TECUMSEH. 



was sent to invite him and his followers to the portico, but 
Tecumseh declined this invitation, saying that he thought n 
grove near by, to which he pointed as he spoke, was a more sui- 
table place. The governor objected that there were no seats 
there. Tecumseh replied that the Indians, children of the earth, 
loved to repose upon the bosom of their mother, and the governor 
yielding the point, seats were placed for the white men and the 
Indians lay upon the grass. 

Tecumseh opened the council by saying that he was determin- 
ed to resist every cession of land unless made by all the tribes 
acting in concert; that while he had no intention of making war 
upon the United States, it was his unalterable resolution to take 



332 



GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISOW. 




GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 338 

a stand, and resolutely oppose the further intrusion of the whites 
upon the Indian lands. He concluded with a brief but passionate 
recital of the wrongs that his people had suflfered at the hands of 
the white men for the last fifty years ; a storjp- that powerfully 
appealed to the passions of his followers. The governor replied 
in pacific terms to this address, and sat down while his speech, in 
turn, was being translated to the Indians. But the interpreter 
had not proceeded far when Tccumsch sprang to his feet, and 
with a fiery eloquence that made itself manifest in look and ges- 
ture, as well as in words, addressed the council. Ignorant of the 
Shawnee tongue, Gov. Harrison supposed that he was making 
some explanation, or advancing some argument in support of 
what had been said ; but others warned him. Winnemac, a friend- 
ly Indian, who lay on the grass beside him, busied himself in re- 
newing the priming of his pistol, concealing both weapon and 
action from the Indians, but evidently desirous of the governor's 
notice. G-en. Gibson, who understood the Shawnee language, 
said to Lieutenant Jennings : 

" Those fellows intend mischief; you had better bring up the 
guard." 

At that moment, the followers of Tecumseh sprang from the 
grass, seizing their tomahawks and war-clubs, and turning their 
eyes upon the governor. Hastily drawing his sword, Harrison 
stood on the defensive, his attendant citizens arming themselves 
with clubs and brickbats, the few soldiers being of course better 
prepared. JSTot a word was spoken on either side, until, as the 
guard came up, ready to fire, the governor ordered them not to 
do so. Turning to the interpreter for information, he was told 
that Tecumseh had interrupted him, declaring that all that the 
governor had said was false, and that he and the Seventeen Fires 
had cheated and imposed upon the Indians. Gov. Harrison se- 
verely reproved Tecumseh, saying that he would hold no further 
communication with him ; that he must immediately leave Vin- 
cennes; he had come under the protection of a council fire, and 
therefore might return in safety. 

There being now no doubt of the purposes of the two brothers. 
Gov. Harrison proceeded to prepare for the contest by calling 
out the militia and making a judicious disposition of the regular 
troops. But it was more than a year after before hostilities actu- 
ally began. Tecumseh was still engaged in the effort to strength- 
en his cause by adding other tribes to the league, and in the sum- 



334 . GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 

mer of 1811 proceeded to the south, in order, as was believed, 
to secure the assistance of the Creeks. Gov. Harrison was 
awaiting reinforcements ; these having arrived, he set out towards 
Tippecanoe, to break up, if necessary, the rendezvous of the 
Prophet. On the "Wabash, sixty or sixty-five miles above Vin- 
cennes, he erected a fort, which, by the request of the soldiers, 
he called Fort Harrison. Friendly Indians brought accounts which 
left no doubt that he had acted wisely in leading this expedition 
into the enemy's country, and one of his sentinels was severely 
wounded by a straggling party of Indians, 

Advancing still farther, at the mouth of the Yermillion Eiver 
he built a block-house to protect his boats and heavy baggage, 
and proceeded thence to the immediate vicinity of the Prophet's 
town. He was desirous of attacking this as soon as possible, be- 
cause he knew that Tecumseh might return any day, although but 
one-fourth of the year had expired that he had fixed as the pe- 
riod of his absence. At this point he was met by ambassadors, 
who, at his request, on his assurance that he had no hostile in- 
tentions, if the Indians would keep to the treaties, showed him a 
suitable place for a camp. He found the place admirably adapt- 
ed for regular troops who were to be opposed to enemies fight- 
ing in the same way, but affording great facilities for the guarded 
approach of savages. A truce had been agreed on, to last until 
the next morning, and trusting partly to this, partly to vigilance, 
he made his preparations for the night. 

It was a piece of dry oak land, rising about ten feet above the 
level of a marshy prairie that stretched towards the Indian 
town, and nearly twice that height above a similar prairie on 
the other side, across which sluggishly flowed a small stream, 
its course marked by willows and brush-wood. Towards the left, 
this peninsula of high land widened considerabl}^, but narrowed 
rapidly to the right, where, about one hundred and fifty yards 
from the right flank of the little army, it came to an abrupt 
termination. Here about seven hundred men were disposed on 
the night of Nov. 6, 1811 ; the order of encampment was the or- 
der of battle, each man sleeping opposite his post in the line. 
Notwithstanding the truce, an attack was fully expected, nor 
was the commander disappointed. 

Tecumseh had left absolute orders that war was to be avoided 
during his absence, but the Prophet was not disposed to obey 
such directions underthe j)resent circumstances. He had jealous- 



GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 335 

ly watched the decline of his own power and the rise of his bro- 
ther's, and perhaps wished to re-establish himself, by a victory 
over the common enemy, in the esteem of his people. Perhaps 
he was urged too strongly by the chiefs around him. We cannot 
now tell what motives actuated him. Surrounded by impetuous 
warriors, the flower of the Winnebago braves, worked up to 
the highest pitch of fanatical zeal, more fierce and cruel than ever 
Indians had been before, and in no way inferior to Gov. Harri- 
son's force, is it any wonder that Tecumseh was disobeyed ? 

Early in the evening the Indians held a council and settled up- 
on a plan. The chiefs were to meet the whites in council the 
next day, and agree to all of Harrison's j)roposals ; retiring then 
to where their warriors were stationed. Two Indians were to 
remain behind and assassinate the governor. After that, the 
general battle would begin, as the attack upon the governor 
would be the signal for his troops to fight. At the very summit 
of his importance, Elskwatawa boasted loudly of his power over 
life and death; concocting some strange preparation and saying 
outlandish incantations over it, he poured it in equal quantities 
upon two small boughs from a neighboring tree, and then inform- 
ed the warriors that one half of Harrison's army was dead, and 
the other half crazy, so that it would be a small matter for the In- 
dians to finish the work of destruction with their tomahawks. 

The night was dark and cloudy, a drizzling rain setting in 
about midnight. Perhaps it was the weather that made them 
change their plan, since such a nightwas admirably suited to the 
second which they adopted ; certain it is that before four o'clock 
on the morning of the seventh, the Prophet's whole force was 
creeping silently through the long, wet grass, upon the sentinels 
of the American camp. 

It was Gov. Harrison's custom to awake the troops an hour be- 
fore daybreak, the whole force remaining under arms until the 
sun rose. A little after four he rose, and was pulling on his boots 
before the fire, conversing with some of his officers — in two min- 
utes the signal for calling out the men would have been given, — 
when suddenly a single shot was fired, followed by that wild 
yell which was the night-mare of all who slept in the Indian 
country. The shot had been fired by a sentinel as he discovered 
an Indian creeping up to the camp ; the yell was but the prelude 
to a thousand others. 

The guard gave way at the point of attack, but the men who 



336 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 

had been sleeping on their arms were immediately prepared to 
receive the Indians bravely ; though the suddenness of the attack 
might have created a panic among veterans, and only one man 
in twenty there had ever been under fire before. The camp-fires 
were put out, that their light might not assist the Indians, and in 
the terrible darkness the battle raged on all sides. Elskwatawa 
had prophesied that the American bullets would rebound from 
the bodies of the Indians, and that while all would be thick dark- 
ness to their enemies, they would bo enabled to see clearly. For 
some reason, however, he did not personally try the truth of 
his prophecies by engaging in the fight; unwilling " to attest at 
once the rival powers of a sham prophecy and a real American 
bullet ;" stationing himself on a small hill near at hand, he chant- 
ed a war-song, presiding, like the evil genius of the Indians, over 
the battle in the darkness. To the messengers that came to tell 
him that, despite his assurances, his followers were falling, ho 
said : 

" Tell them to keep on fighting, and it will be as the Prophet 
has said." 

With a determined courage that was rare with them, the In- 
dians fought openly, charging bravely upon the bayonets, and 
quite abandoning their usual practice. The battle lasted until a 
little after daylight, one last furious charge of the soldiery put- 
ting the Indians to flight. Less than a month after this great bat- 
tle, Harrison wrote that the frontiers had never enjoyed more 
perfect repose. Tippecanoe was the name which, in commemora- 
tion of this victory, was long bestowed upon the successful lead- 
er, whose great military talents were soon after ofiicially recog- 
nized by his appointment to the position of commander-in-chief 
over all the forces in the west and northwest. 

Nor was the victory due mainly to the subordinate officers and 
the soldiers. It was the example and precepts of their general 
that urged them onward to victory. From side to side of the 
camp he rode, here leading a charge in person, here directing an 
officer how to give support to the side attacked, here stopping 
to reprove the cowardice of a French ensign who sheltered him- 
self behind a tree, and who complained bitterly of the injury 
done him in supposing he was cowardly in getting there. 

" I vas not behind de tree, do tree vas before me. Dere vas de 
tree, here vas my position ; how can I help? I cannot move de 
tree, I cannot leaf my position." 



GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 337 

Gov. Harrison was ia no slight danger, as the Indians had de- 
termined to kill him, if possible. Intending to ride a white mare, 
his usual steed, an accident compelled him to use another ; a most 
fortunate circumstance for him, for the Indians made a special 
mark of an aid mounted uj)on a white horse, and he was killed 
very early in the engagement. But although the brim of his hat 
was perforated, and his hair grazed by a ball, the governor es- 
caped unhurt. 

The whole day was spent in fortifying the angles of the camp 
and caring for the wounded. The next morning a strong party 
was sent out to reconnoiter the Prophet's town, which was found 
deserted by all but a chief with a broken leg. There was a great 
quantity of corn, which proved very acceptable, since on the pre- 
ceding day they had had no food but horse-flesh. The town had 
been abandoned in the utmost haste. Having dressed the wound 
of the chief and provided sufficient food to last him for several 
days, they told him, to say to the Indians that those w^ho should 
leave the Prophet and return to their own tribes should be forgiv- 
en ; then destroyed the brass kettles, took with them the corn, the 
fowls and the hogs, and burned the town. 

The Prophet's influence was gone forever, and in Tecumseh's 
absence there was no one to rally the scattered savages. The 
chief returned in a few days, to find the confederacy seemingly 
crushed at the first blow ; his town destroyed, his followers scat- 
tered, the Prophet in disgrace. Not all the cunning of Elskwat- 
awa could shield hira from the just anger of his great brother. Se- 
vere were the reproaches, utterly disregarded the trivial excuses 
for having disobeyed the positive command to keep the peace; 
Tecumseh, doubly exasperated by the disobedience and by the 
attempt to excuse it, seized the Prophet by the hair and gave 
him a good shaking. When we think how he had used his influ- 
ence over the Indians for their destruction, we cannot help re- 
gretting that Tecumseh administered no greater punishment. The 
Prophet's power was indeed gone forever. 

" You are a liar," said a Winnebago warrior to him whomthey 
had but lately revered as a messenger from the Great Spirit; ''for 
you told us that the white people were dead or crazy, when they 
were all in their senses and fought like the devil." 

The Prophet replied, in a tone strangely diff'erent from that 
which he was accustomed to use, that there had been some mis- 
take in the compounding of his decoction. The enraged Indians 



338 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 

bound him, and threatened him with the death to which he had 
condemned so many on the charge of witchcraft, but finally re- 
leased him without inflicting any punishment. To prove their 
good intentions towards the whites, however, they told many 
long stories of what they were going to do to him; there being 
as much truth in their threats as in his pretensions to superna- 
tural power. 

But Tecumseh did not desjjair. His own immediate adherents 
were dispersed among the various tribes, his headquarters had 
been destroyed, and that spiritual influence which his brother 
possessed was entirely gone ; but the tribes far and near acknowl- 
edged his fitness to be a leader, and many of them were still wil- 
ling to listen to his plans. He continued his work then, still hop- 
ing to be chief of a confederacy great as that of the Seventeen 
Fires. 

The Indian depredations continuing to alarm the frontiers 
through the spring of 1812, Gov. Harrison endeavored to induce 
the friendly tribes to driA^e oif the Prophet and other disaff'ected 
Indians, but was for a while only partially successful. In June, 
Tecumseh, angered by being refused ammunition at Fort Wavne, 
went to Maiden, allying himself with the English who were then 
in j)Ossession there, and who had, just before his arrival, heard of 
the declaration of war between the two countries. Engaging 
actively in the cause of the British, he sent the Prophet, who had 
regained something of his brother's confidence, to Fort "Wayne 
to assure the agent that he was friendly to the Americans; but 
his hostility soon became well known by the jJart that he took in 
more than one engagement, and about August of the same year 
he was made a brigadier-general in the British army. 

"When, in September, 1812, Gov. Harrison received the military 
appointment already mentioned, his main object was to recap- 
ture the Michigan territory and its dependencies, which Gen. 
Hull had allowed to fall into the hands of the British. In order 
to do this, and secure communication with the United States, it 
would be necessary for him first to take Maiden, and then to 
drive the Indians from the west bank of the Detroit. Having 
done this, he would march upon Upper Canada and conquerthat. 
But delays of reinforcements prevented his moving as rapidly as 
possible, and he passed the winter in Fort Meigs, built for the 
purpose. 

Late in April of the following year (1813), a large force of Brit- 



GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 339 

ish and Indians, under the command of Gen. Proctor and Tecum- 
seh, appeared before the fort and began to erect their batteries. 
By order of Gen. Harrison, the American troops threw up a re- 
doubt twelve feet high, behind which they retired, and against 
which the ammunition of his majesty was wasted. The siege 
continued eleven days, during which the Americans met with se- 
vere loss on the part of a scouting troop; but this was thought in- 
sufficient success by the British commander, and he returned to 
Maiden. The same officers returned to the siege two months 
later, but again gave up the work. 

Perry's victory on Lake Erie made the British general less ag- 
gressive, and in September he abandoned Maiden, intending to 
make his way to the heart of Canada by the valley of the Thames. 
Harrison having received all his expected reinforcements, fol- 
lowed in hot pursuit, overtaking him on the fifth of October. At 
every defeat that the English had suffered, the Indians had be- 
come more and more dissatisfied, and at length began to hold 
secret councils, of the proceedings in which they would tell Gen.. 
Proctor nothing. Tecumseh, especially, was jealous in the ex- 
treme of his dignity, both as an Indian chief and as a British 
general; rarely speaking to English officers or agents in any but 
the Shawnee tongue, although he knew English enough to carry 
on any ordinary conversation. Nor would he brook what he con- 
sidered an insult. At one time, while they were still at Maiden, 
provisions became scarce, and while the English were supplied 
with salt beef, the Indians were given horse-flesh. Tecumseh com- 
plained to Gen. Proctoi', who seemed indifferent to the remon- 
strance. Touching first the hilt of the general's sword, then his 
own tomahawk, he indicated a way of settling the difficulty, with 
the words : '' You are Proctor ; I am Tecumseh." 

General Proctor gave orders that English and Indians should 
have the same food. 

As may be guessed, Tecumseh was a very difficult ally to man- 
age. Constantly suspicious of the English, Gen. Proctor found 
it necessary to deceive him as to the result of the naval battle, 
and also as to the retreat fi-om Maiden. Eearing his outspoken 
disapproval, and dealing with him by a cringing and maneuver- 
ing policy which the Indian readily saw for what it was, the Eng- 
lishman onl}^ encouraged his ally to the greater insolence. "When 
the general fii*st made known to the chief his determination to 
proceed up the Thames, Tecumseh retorted in a speech of which 
22 



340 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 

Proctor kept a copy, that others might realize the insults which 
he was obliged to swallow. After telling how the Indians had 
waited for the English to give the signal for war, he spoke of the 
uncertain information that had been given them in regard to the 
naval battle. 

"You always told us," said he, with fierce emphasis, "that 
you would never draw your foot olf British ground ; but now, 
father, we see you are drawing back, and we are sorry that our 
father does so without seeing the enemy. We must compare our 
father's conduct to that of a fat dog that carries its tail upon its 
back, but when affrighted it drops it between its legs and runs- 
off. Father, listen ! The Americans have not yet defeated us by 
land ; neither are we sure that they have done so by water ; we 
therefore wish to remain here and fight our enemy, should they 
make their ajjpearance. If they defeat us, we will then retreat 
with our father." 

The advice of Tecumseh was not regarded, and the haughty 
chief, curling his lip with scorn, threatened to leave the English 
service. Only the protests of the Sioux and Chippewas kept him 
faithful to his allies. Sadly he said to a young Indian compan- 
ion, as they began the retreat: 

" We are now going to follow the British, and I feel well as- 
sured that we shall never return. " 

On his retreat up the Thames, Gen. Proctor promised Tecum- 
seh to give battle, first at this place, then at that ; evading always 
the fulfillment of his promise until it was no longer possible. It 
was only when arrived near the Moravian town, a village of con- 
verted Delawares, that Tecumseh absolutely refused to retreat 
any farther, and Gen. Proctor found he must prej^are for battle. 

Here, protected on the one hand by the river, on the other by 
a marsh, the English and Indians arranged themselves in order 
of battle, awaiting the American forces. After his warriors were 
posted, Tecumseh said to the chiefs who surrounded him : 

" Brother warriors, we are now about to enter an engagement 
from which I shall never come out — my body will remain on the 
field of battle." 

Unbuckling his sword, and handing it to one of them, he 
charged him : 

"■ When my son becomes a noted warrior and able to wield a 
sword, give this to him." 

The American infantry charged and broke through the English 



GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARBISON. 



341 



line, throwing it into complete disorder, and working such des- 
truction that the battle at this point was soon over. Col. John- 
son's mounted battalion rode bravely upon the other wing, where 
there were more than a thousand warriors under Tecumseh's com- 
mand ; but the Indians remained motionless until they could see 
the flints in the Americans' guns. Then Tecumseh sprang for- 
ward, with the Shawnee war-whoop, and fired — the signal for the 
fight. .The advance guard of the American force was nearly all 
cut down by the first fire, and Col. Johnson himself severely 
wounded. For seven or eight minutes the battle raged fiercely, 













^^<' ' 






DEATH OK TECUMSEH. 



Tecumseh cheering his men onward. Over the prostrate body 
of the American leader bent an Indian chief, ready with his 
scalping-knife; a pistol-shot and the savage fell dead. The Ameri- 
cans did not recognize the tall form, clad simply in a buck-skin 
suit, without any ornament but a medal, as that of their most 
formidable Indian foe since the days of Pontiacj his warriors 
knew only that he had fallen, by whose hand it little mattered, 
and turning, fled to the surrounding marsh. 

General Harrison could not bo praised enough for this victory, 
won, as was Tippecanoe, by his skill as a general and courage as 
a leader. Congress gave to him and to his assistant, the aged 



342 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 

ex-Go V. Shelby of Kentucky, a vote of thanks; accompanying it 
by a gold medal presented to each. The General's success and 
popularity, however, aroused the jealousy of the Secretary of 
War, who gave instructions to inferior officers without having 
consulted the commander-in-chief, and by similar means showed 
his prejudice against the hero of the west. General Harrison 
would have been lacking in due self-respect had he been content 
to retain his position under the circumstances, and he promptly 
resigned. His resignation was tendered and accepted during 
President Madison's absence from the Capital ; and the Chief 
Executive, who greatly regretted that he had not known of the 
difficulty, gave him a fresh token of his confidence by appointing 
him, in the summer of 1814, one of the commissioners to treat 
with the Indians at Greenville. Two years later, he was chosen 
to represent Ohio in the national Congress, but had hardly taken 
his seat when his conduct while in command of the northwestern 
army was impugned. A committee of investigation was, by his 
own request, appointed. Col. Johnson being the chairman. It is 
hardly necessary to say that the result was a triumphant vindi- 
cation of the patriotism and ability of the slandered soldier, who 
had so illy deserved the aspersions. 

It is not our purpose to follow every step of his future life ; 
here his military career ends, and the remainder need be only 
briefly outlined. A state senator of Ohio in 1819, five years later 
he was chosen a presidential elector, casting his vote for Clay; 
elected to the United States Senate in the following year, in 1828 
he was appointed minister plenij^otentiary to the United States 
of Columbia, then in the confusion so common to the Spanish- 
American countries. One of the first acts of Gen. Jackson's ad- 
ministration was to recall him, and with a sturdy independence 
he descended from the high offices that he had held, to accept the 
position of clerk of the Hamilton county court. Brought forward 
in 1836 as a candidate for the presidency, the opposition to Van 
Buren was not united in support of any one candidate, and the 
devoted follower of Jackson was elected. Four years later, the 
Whigs had learned better, and the convention held at Harris- 
burg, after three days' balloting, chose William Henry Harrison, 
of Ohio, and John Tyler, of Virginia, as their candidates. 

" Give Harrison a log-cabin and a barrel of hard cider, and he 
will never leave Ohio to be President of the United States/' said 
one of his political enemies. 



GEIJERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISOI*. 



34g 



The saying spread like wild-fire, and the log-cabin became the 

insignia of the Whigs, as their war cry was — 

" Tippecanoe and Tyler, too, 
And with them we'll beat little Yan." 

Thus the memory of a victory achieved nearly thirty years be- 
fore served to show the esteem in which he was still held by the* 




TECUMSEII RALLYING THE TRIBES. 



people; and the name of the Prophet's town was coupled with 
the cry of " Victory \" in the fall. 

The story draws rapidly to a close. For the fii'st time in its 
history, the country was called upon to mourn the loss of its 
Chief Magistrate, a month after his inauguration. Grief was gen- 
eral and wide-spread. "Never since the time of Washington/' 



344 GENERAL WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 

said the National Intelligencer, " has one man so concentrated 
upon himself the love and the confidence of the American peo- 
ple." Unfortunately, even the child can remember the grief of 
the nation on such an occasion ; there is no need to expatiate up- 
on it, nor is there need to say more of the character or services 
of him, whom the people that he defended appropriately and 
affectionately styled " Old Tippecanoe." 



CHAPTER XIV. 



COLONEL DAVID CEOCKETT. 

EVEEY newspaper issued to-day chronicles the life of the na- 
tion, as made up of innumerable individual lives ; but fifty 
years ago each journal told of a few prominent individuals, leav- 
ing to the reader the task of constructing a Avhole from these parts. 
Hero worship is dying out of the newspapers and the political 
party; it is no longer enthusiasm for a soldier or a statesman, 
but the policy of the party, or, perhaps, the " machine," which 
controls elections. Such was not the case a half century ago; 
then it was personal prejudice that defeated a candidate, or per- 
sonal preference that elected him.^ Such were the days of Col. 
David Crockett, the earliest of American humorists, whose quaint 
sayings were household words — or equally venerable newspaper 
paragraphs — before Mark Twain was born. 

John Crockett, the father of David, was born in Ireland or on 
the passage to this country. lie was a soldier in the American 
army during the whole period of the Eevolution. Either he was 
married before the war began, or an opportune furlough enabled 
him to woo and win Rebecca Hawkins, a native of Maryland; 
for their fifth son, David, was born August 17, 1786. The fam- 
ily had lived for a time in North Carolina, but had, at some 
time before this date, moved to Greene County, as it is now 
called, in East Tennessee. This was then a wild and partly set- 
tled country, where the Indians gave considerable trouble. Short- 
ly after the removal of the Crockett family, the Creeks murder- 
ed John Crockett's parents, wounded one son, and carried into 
captivity another. This captive uncle of our hero remained 
among the Indians for nearly eighteen years ; the fact that he 
was a deaf rauid rendering it difficult for him to escape. He was 
finally recognized and purchased by two of his brothers. 

Such was their poverty, and so far in the wilderness was their 
home, that John Crockett and his wife could not give their chil- 



^46 COliONEL DAVID CROCKET'l'. 

dren any tuition at school for a long time -, to this lack of school- 
ing is probably due that dislike and contempt of the most famous 
of them for " this way of spelling contrary to nature." Each of 
them jDrobably acquired a goodly share of shrewd common sense 
by the part which he was obliged to take in active life. 

John Crockett seems to have been '^-ne of those unfortunate 
men whose business ventures always fail. "A rolling stone gath- 
ers no moss," and in seven or eight years from the time of his 
son David's birth, he had moved, changing his business with each 
removal, no less than three times. The last time, he settled in 
Jefferson County, and oj^ened a small tavern on the road between 
Abingdon and Knoxville. The accommodations were of the 
kind best appreciated by the wagoners who were continually go- 
ing to and fro between these places. The tavern was on such a 
small scale that David had almost entire charge of the horses 
belonging to the guests; a task that at times was arduous, but 
to which he soon looked back longingly. 

There came to the little tavern one evening a Dutchman, nam- 
ed Jacob Siler, who said that he was moving from Knoxville to 
Eockbridge, Yirginia, about»four hundred miles off. He wanted 
some one to help him with the cattle that he had Avith him, and 
John Crockett hired his twelve year old son to go with this stran- 
ger that long distance on foot. David was very kindly treated 
by his master, who professed himself very much pleased with the 
services of his young assistant; but so strong was the boy's at- 
tachment to his home that he never once lost sight of the idea of 
returning. In order, however, that this hope might ever be re- 
alized, he was obliged to conceal it. 

After what seemed an age to the impatience of youth, but which 
was really four orfive weeks, he espied, while playing with some 
companions near the road, three wagoners who had often stoj)- 
ped at his father's tavern. He told them his j)itiful tale of home- 
sickness, and they said that they would stop at a tavern seven 
miles from there that night, and leave at dawn the next morn- 
ing ; that if he would be at that place before day, they would 
take him along with them, and defend him if his master pur- 
sued. Between his anxiety to be at home, and his dread of 
pursuit, the boy slept but little, and arose three hours before day- 
break. When he started, the snoAv was about eight inches deep, 
and still falling ; no moon shone, and an opening through the 
timber was the only road. Cheered by the thought that it was 



eOLONEL DAVID CROCKEtit', S4? 

the "way homo, and anxious lest he should he too late to overtake 
the wagoners, the little hero jDlodded on, the snow, in the latter 
part of his journey, heing up to his knees 5 and arrived about an 
hour before daj"- light. He was at first fearful of pursuit, but 
the drifting snow had obliterated all trace of his foot-prints. 

He journeyed on in comj)any with the wagoners, until they 
reached a house on Eoanoke, where he left them, intending to 
pursue the rest of the way on foot, as ho would thus arrive at 
home much sooner. Meeting with a strange gentleman who in- 
vited him to ride upon a led horse, he accejjted the offer, and they 
continued together until they reached a point fifteen miles 
from the little tavern, where the road diverged. Although the 
name of this stranger did not linger long in the boy's memory, 
the kindness was never forgotten, but was mentioned nearly fifty 
years after with gratitude. 

He lived at homo until the next fall, when his father sent the 
boys to a school recently opened in the neighborhood by a cer- 
tain Benjamin Kitchen^ But his attendance here was not of long 
duration. Having had, on the fourth day, a falling out with one 
of the larger boys, David, who was just getting a good grip on 
the alphabet, slipped out while the more advanced pupils were 
spelling, and hid himself in the bushes by the roadside. As soon 
as school was over, and the other boy came along the road, young 
Crockett sprang upon him like a wild-cat, and soon made him cry 
for quarter. But the victor felt himself not invincible by the super- 
ior strength of the schoolmaster, and decided to forego learning 
for a time. This was a resolution not to be 'announced at home, 
however; so, having persuaded his brothers to keep his secret, 
they, as usual, left the house together the next morning, as if all 
were going to school ; but David left them as soon as they were 
out of sight of the house, and spending the day in the woods, re- 
turned with them in the afternoon. 

For a few days the plan worked admirably, but soon the school- 
master sent a note of inquiry to David's parents. The father had 
been drinking just enough to make him cross. In answer to his 
questions the boy told the whole story, saying that he know that 
" Kitchen would cook him up to a cracklin' in no time." He was 
soon aware, however, that he would not meet with any support 
at home, for his father said : 

" I'll whip you a 'tarnal sight worse'n the master if you don't 
start off to school right now." 



848 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 

The boy tried hard to beg off, but vainly. Seeing his father 
cut a stout hickory, he judged it was about time to put a little 
greater distance between them; off he ran, not towards the school- 
house, chased hotly by the irate old man; but he succeeded in 
giving the slip to the hickory rod, and did not return home for 
nearly three j^ears. Often, he says, did he wish to be at home 
again, but the dread of Schoolmaster Kitchen and his father's big 
hickory kept him away. Going back, he was not recognized for 
some time, nor did he make himself known. They had given him 
up as dead, and when his sister, startled by some familiar gesture 
or smile, proclaimed that the lost was found, such was the joy of 
all that he would rather have submitted to a hundred whipjjings 
than have remained away longer. 

The whole of the ensuing year was spent in working out two 
debts of his father's, the entire sum being seventy-six dollars. 
The second term of this service was with an honest old Quaker, 
John Kennedy, for whom he continued to work after the expira- 
tion of the fixed time, in order to provide himself with clothes. 
During this service, a pretty niece of the old Quaker's came to 
visit him, and young Crockett fell violently in love. The warmth 
of his affection was equalled only by his bashfulness, but at last 
he '* screwed his courage to the sticking-place," and, with the 
usual threats of dying of grief if his love were not returned, he 
laid bare his heart to the lady. It was in vain, however, for she 
told him that she was engaged to her cousin, young Kennedy, 
and Davy reconsidered the idea of going into a decline, deciding 
that, as his troubles probably came from the lack of learning, he 
had better go to school. 

For six months, then, he attended a school kept by John Ken- 
nedy's married son, working two days in the week to pay for his 
tuition the other four, and for his board. Having learned to read 
a little in the primer, to write his own name, and gotten as far as 
the multiplication table, he decided that he could not possibly do 
without a wife any longer, and quitting school, immediately set 
about providing himself. An old ^ilaymate was his choice, and 
after some evasion and delay, she accepted his offer, and a day 
was set for the wedding, the bridegroom-elect being about eigh- 
teen. 

He had purchased a rifle, and was frequently a competitor in 
the shooting-matches for beef. One Saturday he set out to one of 
these gatherings, intending to go on towards the lady's home af- 



COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 



340 



terwards. In fact, he had some important business there, as they 
were to be married the next Saturday, and he had not yet asked 
the consent of her parents. Of his success in this direction, how- 
ever, he had not the slightest doubt, and his good opinion of him- 
self was not lessened by the fact that he won nearly the whole 
beef by his skill with the rifle. Disposing of his prize for five 
dollars, he walked onward, stopping on the way at the house of 
his sweetheart's uncle. Here he found her sister, who, with con- 
siderable regret, told him that he was being deceived ; that his 

promised bride would marry 
some one else the next day ; 
but that, although the success- 
ful rival had asked for the lady 
and had secured the license, 
her parents, she knew, would 
much prefer David, and if he 
would only go onward to her 
father's house, he might yet 
break off the match. David de- 
clined to do so, however, not 
wishing, perhaps, to force him- 
self upon her. 

Once again he was disconso- 
late, and might have remained 
so a longer time, if a girl whom 
he describes as so ugly that 
it hurt one's eyes to look at 
her had not taken pity on him, 
and introduced him at a reap- 
ing to a pretty little Irish girl, with whom, of course, he was 
soon in love as deeply as ever. To make a long story short, 
they were married, in spite of the opposition of her mother. 
Finding that no one else objected, the mother-in-law at last re- 
lented, and gave them two cows and calves towards settling in 
life; they rented a cabin and a little ground; John Kennedy 
gave them an order on a store for fifteen dollars' worth of 
household goods j "Adam delved and Eve spun," and by dint of 
hard work they made a living for themselves and the two sons 
born to them soon. But renting ground was poor policy ; so in 
1809 they removed across the mountains to Lincoln county, 
where game was still plentiful, and where he laid the foundation 




BWID CROCKETT 



850 COLONEL BAVID CROCKET*. 

of his fame as a hunter. After a two j'ears' residence here, they 
moved again, this time to Franklin County. 

In 1813, the Creek Indians, living in Alabama and Georgia, 
being incited to hostilities by the British and Spanish, surprised 
Fort Mimms, forty miles north of Mobile, and massacred the 
garrison, numbering about three hundred persons. There was 
no mistaking the meaning of this ; the Creeks felt themselves 
strong enough to drive the whites out of the country. A call for 
volunteers speedily followed, and the hunter felt the wild passion 
that leads a man to the field of battle raging in his breast. His 
wife would have persuaded him to remain with her and their 
boys, but he answered : 

" If every man waits until his wife tells him to go to war, we 
will all stay here and be murdered in our own homes." 

To this argument she had no reply, and when the muster was 
held at Winchester a few days later, her husband was the second 
or third man who stepped forward to enlist. Thirteen hundred 
mounted volunteers joined Gen. Jackson's command, being en- 
rolled for sixty days. At the end of two months, however, the 
war was by no means over, and many of them re-enlisted. Crock- 
ett distinguished himself, not onlj^ as a scout and a spy, but as a 
brave man in open battle. His skill in hunting proved of mat- 
erial assistance to his comrades, for open-hearted as he was, when 
he had anything to share, no one around him lacked. 

Shortly after, he met with the misfortune of the death of his 
wife. Left with three children, the youngest a mere baby, he at 
first committed them to the care of his brother's wife; but how- 
ever good, it was not a mother's, and he undertook to supply the 
deficiency in another way. A widow of one of his comrades 
lived nearby, and to her he suggested a union of their two fami- 
lies. Her two children were as small as his, and each seems to 
have adopted the other's quite cheerfully. 

The succeeding years w^ere filled with events of comparatively 
slight importance. Crockett continued to increase in popularity, 
the elements of w^hich lay in his readiness to share with all com- 
ers, his perpetual good humor, his fund of anecdote, and, when 
this failed him, his capacity for ready invention ; above all, by 
his instant recognition of the merest chance acquaintance. There 
is nothing which gives a man so favorable an impression of an- 
other as that ability of the other to call him by name without 
hesitation. We are well-disposed towards those whom we impress. 



COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 351 

Homoviiig to Laurens county, ho found there a most primitive 
state of soeiet}'. Thinking that some sort of restraint would be 
necessary, the men of the community met to elect magistrates 
and constables. The election took place in due form, Crockett 
being made magistrate; but they omitted the making of laws, 
leaving that entirely to the discretion of their chosen officials. 
The law as thus administered was somewhat informal, as may bo 
imagined. Justice Crockett's warrants were in what he called 
"verbal writing ;"that is, he would say to his constable, when any 
one was noted as an offender: 

" Catch that fellow and bring him here." 

Justice and constable considered this sufficient; and it is to be 
supposed that the criminal did, too, for he usually allowed him- 
self to be brought. The Assembly added their settlement to those 
in Giles county, and decreed thatthe justices must make outtheir 
warrants in " real writing," and keep written records. These 
were hard lines to one who could hardly write his own name, but 
by dint of perseverance he succeeded in learning to write 
more easily, and to keep his records without much difficulty. 
Then, too, he was ably seconded by his constable, whom he em- 
powered to fill out warrants when he thought it necessary, with- 
out reference to his chief. But the judgments he delivered were 
never appealed from, for all the irregularity that there may have- 
been in getting at them ; since they were formed on con>mon- 
sense, justice and honesty. 

One honor led to another, for so did his office of magistrate 
raise him in his own opinion, that he was a willing candidate for 
their positions. A short time before a certain military election, 
he was urged by a Capt. Matthews to run for major of a regiment; 
he at first refused, saying that he had had enough of military 
life; but so strong became the persuasions of Matthews, who said 
that he intended to offer for colonel, and would do everything in 
his power to advance his friend, that Crockett yielded. Finding, 
however, that in spito of these protestations of friendshij^and of- 
fers of assistance, Matthews' son intended to run for the post of 
major, our hero's usual good nature failed him, and thinking that, 
if he had to contend with the family, it might as well be with the 
head of it, heconcludedthat he would prefer to bo colonel. "When 
the election was over, he had the satisfaction of finding that both 
of the Matthews were badly beaten, and he was Colonel Crockett. 

At the next election he became a candidate for the State Leg- 



352 



COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 



islature. Electioneering was a new business to him, and he felt 
somewhat doubtful as to his success, knowing but little, if any- 
thing, about " government." Like many another man, though, 
Avhile not claiming to know more than he did, he did not tell ex- 
actly how much ho did not know) the result was that nobody 
thought anything about it, being satisfied that a man who could 







CROCKETT ON THE STtTMP. 

make such entertaining speeches, tell such capital stories, and 
then lead the way to a neighboring bar, was the man to represent 
them. But Col. Crockett was not satisfied with himself j he was 
anxious to know as much about government as any other repre- 
sentative of the people. Arrived at the capital and duly recog- 
nized, he found his brother legislators continually introducing 
bills, and became possessed with the idea that he must do the 
same. A friend drafted one for him, and he arose and confidently 



COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 853 

presented it to the consideration of the house. A member who 
opposed it filhided to Col, Crockett in a disparaging way; but if 
ever a man regretted lack of courtesy towards an opj^onent, this 
one did ; for thus called upon to answer, the mighty hunter pour- 
ed forth such a flood of backwoods eloquence that the whole as- 
sembly roared with laughter; he ended by comparing this op- 
ponent to " an old coon dog barking up the wrong tree." 

Before his election, he had built a large grist-mill, with pow- 
der-mill and distillery near by; the buildings for these three 
purposes costing about three thousand dollars. This was more 
than he had, but he trusted to the profits of his business to ena- 
ble him to pay off the debt thus contracted. During his absence 
at the capital, however, a freshet swept away the buildings, and 
he was ruined. On his return, his wife, much to his pleasure, said 
to him : 

"Just pay up, as long as you have a bit's worth in the world; 
then everybody will be satisfied and Ave will scuffle for more." 

Taking this advice, he disposed of the negroes that he owned, 
and everything else available for the i:)urposc, and prepared to 
go still fai'ther west. His new location was near or in that part 
of the country known as the " Shakes," from the frequent, though 
light shocks felt there after the ]^cw Xadrid earthquake of 1812. 
He was accompanied only by his eldest son, still a boy, and a 
young man. Building a cabin and clearing a small space, he jmt 
in a crop of corn, and while it was growing indulged in his fav- 
orite sport of hunting. "Bets}'," as he called his old, roughly- 
fiishioned rifle, was the companion of many ?i long dny spent in 
the woods; Betsy never told him a lie, but always sent a ball 
just where he told her ; Betsy killed six deer in one day in that 
game abounding country; and during that spring as many as ten 
bears fell before her. A called session of the Legislature sum- 
moned him soon after he got in his crop, and on his return he 
brought his family to his new home. The latter part of October, 
1822, saw the little famil}^, with two heavily laden pack-horses, 
traveling yet farther into the " far West;" in front of this little 
partj", humming a song, walked a cheerful, light-hearted woods- 
man, carrying a child on one arm and a rifle with the other, and 
followed by half a dozen dogs. 

For two months things went on well at that little cabin in the 
woods, seven miles from the nearest house, and fifteen miles from 
the next nearest neighbor. "Betsy" kept them supplied with an 



354 ■ COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 

abundance of meat; but at last, near Christmas, there was dan- 
ger of starvation, for the stock of powder gave out. Not only 
did it mean no more game, but no Christmas guns could be fired. 
Col. Crockett knew that a keg of powder had been left at his 
brother-in-law's house for him, on the opposite side of a stream 
called Eutherford's Fork, and determined to get it. Unusually 
heavy rains had swollen the little river so that it was about a 
mile wide, stretching from hill to hill. There were no bridges, 
and either he had no boat, or it could not be used in the long 
stretch of shallow water. He ^' learned then," to use his own 
words, " how much anybody could suifer and not die." Walking 
for about a quarter of a mile through snow four inches deep, he 
came to that vast expanse of water. Through this he waded and 
swam, holding aloft on his gun the bundle of dry clothes. So 
cold was he when he emerged, that, trying to run, in order to get 
warm, he found it impossible to move his foot its own length. 
But, as he records, he got the powder, though he was obliged to 
stay three or four days on the other side of the river, and cross- 
ing on the ice, broke through more than once. Undaunted by 
what he had undergone, as he neared the home side of the stream 
he saw what he thought was a bear's trail, and determined to 
follow up his favorite game. The animal had evidently broken 
through the ice, and, disgusted with the cold bath, returned to 
land. Following the trail, it led him to his own door, and proved 
to be that of a young man sent by his wife to search for him; her 
intense anxiety telling her that he must have been drowned or 
frozen. 

A heavy rain that night, turning to sleet, was followed in the 
morning by the "southerly wind and a cloudy sky" so favorable 
for hunting, and Crockett, his brother-in-law, and the young man 
living with him, started out. Before long they separated, he pre- 
ferring to look for larger game than they. Two wild turkeys 
were killed early in the day by "Betsy," and with these on his 
shoulder the hunter continued his search for bears. The dogs 
soon gave the alarm, but on looking up the tree where they were 
barking he came to the conclusion that it was a turkey which had 
flown away. The false alarm was given several times, and he 
had about made up his mind to shoot the hound that was fore- 
most, when he saw a bear of extraordinary size. So large was 
he that the dogs were afraid to attack him, and when they had 
seemed to be barking up the wrong tree, had only been enticing 



COLONEL DAVID! CROCKETT. 



355 



their master onwards. So dark had it grown, that he was hard- 
ly able to see the animal, or there would have been less difficul- 
ty in despatching it; but after a severe encounter, in which he 
stabbed the bear again and again, and his own clothes were torn 
and covered with blood, the huge, clumsy animal lay dead. 

Having on hand a number of skins, he set out, in company with 
his eldest son, who seems to have been a favorite companion, to- 
wards a town forty miles away, to trade for groceries. Here he 
met with some of his old acquaintances of political life, who urged 




cuockktt's fight with a beau. 
him to become again a candidate for his old office from this new 
district; but he refused positively to do so. 

"I live down in the cane," he said, "forty miles from town, 
and nobody knows me in this district as they did in the other." 

He thought this was decisive, but it seems that his old comrades 
thought otherwise. About a week afterwards, a passing traveler 
stopped at the cabin in the cane, and showed the family there a 
newspaper in which Col. David Crockett was announced as a can- 
didate for the Legislature. It was a clear case of the office seek- 
ing the man, but the man was at first disposed to regard it as a 
joke that was being played on him. Our hero was never loatb 
23 



356 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 

to enter into any fun, and soon determined to have the best of it. 
Hiring a young man to work on his farm, he started out elec- 
tioneering, and the district soon rang with the praises of the 
great bear-hunter, the man from the cane. There had been three 
candidates in the field, but Crockett made things so hot that in 
March they held a caucus to decide which should remain in the 
lists. The strength of the three was concentrated on Dr. Butler, 
a nephew by marriage of the great Tennesseean, Gen. Jackson. 
Meeting this gentleman at one of the large gatherings, Crockett 
hailed him with : 

"Well, doctor, I suppose they have weighed you out to me ; but 
I should like to knotv why they fixed your election for March in- 
stead of August. This is abranfire new way of doing business, if 
a caucus is to make a representative for the people." 

Thinking to poke fun at Crockett, he answered: "Where did 
you spring from. Colonel ?" 

" O, I've just crept out from the cane, to see what discoveries I 
could make among the white people. You think you have greatly 
the advantage of me ; it's true I live forty miles from any settle- 
ment j I am very poor, and you are very rich ; you see, it takes 
two coon-skins here to buy a quart, but I've good dogs, and my 
little boys at home will go their death to support my election; 
they are mighty industrious ; they hunt every night until twelve 
o'clock, but it keeps the little fellows mighty busy to keep me in 
whiskey. When they get tired, I takes my rifle and goes out 
and kills a wolf, and the state pays me three dollars for the scalp -, 
so one way or another I keep knocking along." 

"Well, Colonel," rejoined Dr. Butler, "I see you can beat me 
electioneering." 

"You don't call this electioneering, do you? When you see 
me electioneering I go fixed for it: I've got a hunting shirt with 
two pockets in it that will hold half a j^eck aj^iece; and I puts 
a bottle in one, and a big plug in the other, for I never like to 
leave a man worse off 'n I found him. When I meets a friend, I 
gives him a pull at the bottle; he'll be mighty ai:)t, before he 
drinks, to throw away his tobacco j so when he's done, I pulls 
out my big twist and gives him a chaw. Then he ain't likely to 
find fault, as he would if he'd a lost his tobacco; and I'll be 
mighty apt to get his vote, I reckon." 

But this entire absence of pretense, this blunt acknowledgment 
of bluntness, was the most successful kind of electioneering. The 



COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 357 

crowd was in a roar of laughter at the discomfiture of the elo- 
quent gentleman, and the rough humor of the backwoodsman. 
Nor did their admiration at all diminish ; it carried him safely 
through the election, his majority over all three candidates (two 
others had come out between March and August) being nearly 
two hundred and fifty. 

He served this time in the Legislature for two years, 1823 and 
1824. In the earlier part of his term, his independence of party 
trammels and soldiers' prejudices was manifested by his vote for 
TJ. S. Senator, when the candidates were Senator Miller and G-en. 
Jackson. Mr. Miller had served the state well, and even the en- 
thusiasm of a soldier for his old commander, of a Tennessoean 
for Andrew Jackson7 could not make David Crockett vote against 
one whom he knew to be well qualified. But while this course 
preserved his self-respect, it lost him many friends, and may have 
assisted, two years later, to cause his political defeat. But ten 
years afterwards he would not acknowledge himself in the wrong. 

The defeat mentioned was in this way : urged to run for Cong- 
ress, he at first refused, but was afterwards induced to consent. 
The representative at that time was the opposing candidate, and 
by reason of a factitious popularity arising from the increase 
in the price of cotton and his vote on the tariff question, succeed- 
ed in beating the *' gentlemen from the cane" by two votes. Many 
persons believed that the election had not been fairly conducted; 
the action of oneofiicer, at least, in charge of a ballot-box, giving 
room for suspicion; but so far was Col. Crockett from wishing to 
contest the election, that he said to some friends who represent- 
ed that he would probably secure the seat in that way : "If it is 
not the wish of the people, clearly expressed, I don't want to serve 
them." 

Back to his farm, then, he went, and occupied his time in work- 
ing there, and in his favorite pursuit of bear hunting. In the fall 
of 1825, he concluded to build two large boats and load them with 
pipe-staves for market, but met with characteristic interruptions. 
Working steadily on until the bears got fat, ho started out on a. 
hunting tour, in order to supply his family with meat for the 
winter. Hardly has this been salted down, and the hunter set- 
tled to boat-building again, when a neighbor, living some twenty- 
five miles away, came to ask him to go bear-hunting in that part 
of the country. As may be imagined, Crockett readily consent- 
ed, and they set out together. I)uring an absence of two weeks, 



358 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 

they killed fifteen bears, thus supplying the neighbor's family 
with their winter meat. Nor was this the only hunt undertaken 
for others. Returning home, he worked for a while on the boats, 
and in getting staves, but before many days longed for the com- 
panionship of Betsy. Starting out with his little son, the first 
day they disposed of eight bears. "While the two were looking 
for water and a good place to camp, they came upon a poor fel- 
low who was grubbing, as it turned out, for another man, in or- 
der to earn meat for his family. Crockett, knowing what hard 
and poorly paid work this was, induced the man to accompany 
him on his hunt, and assist in salting down the flesh of the ani- 
mals that they should kill. During the week they killed seven- 
teen bears, the grubber being enriched with over a thousand 
pounds of excellent meat. Hardly had Crockett returned home, 
when he started out again to hunt with a neighbor. Such an invi- 
tation was never refused, whatever reasons there may have been 
for remaining at home; his love of the sport and his obliging 
good nature rendered it impossible to say no, when any man said: 
"Come and hunt bears for me." 

But hunting was over for the season, and Crockett Avas free to 
attend to his business. Having about thirty thousand staves and 
two good boats, he engaged a crew, and set oft'to New Orleans. 
When they got upon the Mississippi, and found that the pilot was 
wholly ignorant of the treacherous stream, all were considerably 
alarmed ; the brave hunter, according to his own candid confes- 
sion, believing himself a little worse scared than anybody else. 
Lashing the boats together for greater safet}^, they only made 
matters worse by rendering them unmanageable, and were oblig- 
ed to let the current carry them whither it would. Then it was 
that the superior safety and pleasure of bear-hunting became more 
apparent to him who had never doubted. Sitting in the little 
cabin of the hinder boat ( for since they were lashed together 
they went broad-side down the stream) he heard great confusion 
among the crew. The current had carried the two boats against 
an island, where great quantities of driftwood had lodged, and the 
next thing would be the submergence of the upper boat. This 
was already turned so that it was imjoossible to get out at the 
hatchway, and the only other means of exit, a hole at the side, 
was very small. The efforts of the crew to rescue their com- 
mander were successful, however, and he was pulled through this 
hole; although his shirt was torn from him^ and his body very 



COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 



359 



much abraded. Hardly had he touched the other boat when that 
from which he had just escaped was drawn under the seething 
mass of yellow water. All night they were on that raft of drift- 
wood, four of them bare-headed, three of them bare-footed, our 
hero being one of these last. So great was his sense of gratitude 





SHIPWREC'KEIi OX THE RIVER. 



S^^p^SS^i,. 




for life, however, his relief at the escape from the immediate dan- 
ger, that he almost forgot the discomforts of his position, and 
"felt prime." 

Early in the morning they hailed a passing boat, which sent a 
skiff to their relief. On this boat they returned to Memphis, 
where a friend in need provided them with clothes and money 
for the rest of their journey. Having lost his boats and their 
lading, all his clothes but those that he wore, and nearly lost his 
life, Crockett arrived at home, thoroughly disgusted with boat- 
ing, and gave himself up to electioneering, as another represen- 
tative in the national councils was to be chosen the next August. 

There were three principal candidates in the district where 
our interest centers ; one being Col. Alexander, and another. Gen- 
eral Arnold. These two gentlemen seemed to regard themselves 



360 COLONEL DAVID CROCKEM. 

as the only important candidates, replying to each other's cam- 
paign speeches at considerable length, and thinking beneath 
their notice the third man, the bear-hunter. But the people knew 
that as surely as the muddy Mississippi's alluvial deposits enrich- 
ed their land, this untaught son of the backwoods was the best 
man to protect their interests, and by an overwhelming majority 
at the polls rebuked the conceit of his more polished competitors. 

His fame as a humorist had preceded him, and if an anonymous 
biographer, writing aboiit 1832, is to be believed, hotel-keepers 
and transportation companies considered him such an attraction 
that each was anxious to secure his patronage. But although his 
ready humor was the foundation of his fame, his time at the na- 
tional capitol was not spent idly. Faithful, hard work for his 
constituents was his idea of his duty, and he endeavored to carry 
it out. The details would be of interest only to the historian of 
that section of Tennessee at that particular period ; but the gene- 
ral fact is of importance to his biographer. His efforts were 
chiefly directed to those internal improvements which he knew 
were so much needed in his district, and it was a great disap- 
pointment to find that Gen. Jackson was not in sympathy with 
him. Coming from his backwoods cabin in Tennessee to be a 
'courted guest in Washington society, where the originality of his 
character was fully appreciatedj received at the White House by 
the Chief Executive, the sudden change did not dazzle him. Close 
observation of others taught him the manners of those in his new 
position, and the graces of the society gentleman sat easily upon 
the bear hunter. Still, through all, the fact was apparent that 
this polish intensified the luster of a true jewel, instead of giving 
false value to a pebble. " A man's a man for a' that,'' and 
he defended the manhood in him by opposing his old commander 
whom he thought in the wrong. This was highly resented by 
his constituents, and many politicians and newspapers devoted to 
Jackson so exaggerated his defection that at the next election he 
was defeated by a small majority. 

He had served two consecutive terms in Congress, returning 
to the plow after each session as calmly as ever did Cincinnatus 
or Our own Washington; and when the verdict of the people was 
made known to him after his election in 1830, he coolly accepted 
the situation, and went on with his work. Every effort had been 
made by Jackson's worshipers to secure his defeat at this time, 
but success did not satisfy them. Gerrymandering secured such 



COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 361 

a division of his old district at the next session of the Legislature 
that it seemed to them that the next election would give them an 
easy victory; but they reckoned without their host. Their pre- 
vious success had been partly due to their practice of making ap- 
l^ointments for Crockett to speak, and carefully keeping it from 
him ; at the time set, his opponents would rise and say to the 
crowd that had assembled, that he had refused to speak, being 
afraid of the result. He only heard of their pursuing this course 
when it was too late to counteract it, and the result was his de- 
feat. Before the next election, however, the minds of men were 
calmer, and ready to listen to both sides of the question; and 
the result was an easy victory for Crockett. 

He had not been long in Washington after the beginning of his 
third term when his physician advised him to take a pleasure- 
trip for the benefit of his health. So well had he been pleased 
with his brother members from the northern part of the country 
that he determined to see them in their homes. Baltimore was 
visited on his journey northward, the strange sight of a railway 
train here meeting his eyes for the first time. Approaching Phil- 
adelphia by water, he was on deck when three flags were run up. 
He enquired the meaning. 

" O," said the captain, " I'd promised some friends to let them 
know if you Avere on board." 

To the man who, on reaching Baltimore, had recognized a 
great city as a place where any one would be made to feel his 
own unimj3ortance, this was a revelation. The idea that any one 
should care about his coming to this strange? place was astonish- 
ing. As the boat neared the shore, he saw one vast " sea of up- 
turned faces ;" a gesture from the captain pointed out to them the 
lion of the day and a rousing cheer for Davy Crockett saluted 
his ears. 

"Give us the hand of an honest man," cried the people, crowd- 
ing around him as he stepped on shore. But this recognition was 
not all that awaited him. The most cordial hospitality of the 
Quaker City was extended to him by her mosthonored sons. The 
anti-Jackson man from Tennessee was hailed with delight by the 
Whigs of the North, who greeted his defection from his party as 
an evidence of that party's weakness. Speech after speech from 
him was demanded by the crowd wherever he went, and although 
he often tried to escape their importunity, his good-nature al- 
ways yielded. Some gentlemen jjrescntcd liim with a seal val- 



362 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 

f7CcX at forty dollars ; the device being two race-horses, evidently 
at the top of their speed, and the motto that to which our hero 
had clung, whether b«ar-hunting or law-making, whether cling- 
ing, half-naked, through the winter night, to a raft of driftwood 
in the Mississippi, or sitting, an honored guest, at the President's 
table : " GrO ahead." Tradition has it, that when a suitor of his 
daughter approached him by letter, about this time, he replied : 

" Dear Sir : I have received your letter. Go ahead. 

David Crockett." 

Whether this were known at the time or not, the motto was 
generally recognized as suited to the man, and the seal was cop- 
ied by many of his fellow Congressmen. A club of young Whigs, 
desiring to present him with a handsome rifle, secured from him 
directions as to the size and kind that he preferred, and the or- 
der was given to the manufacturer. Dinners were tendered him 
in abundance, and everyw^here the greatest eagerness to entertain 
him prevailed. In New York the same flattering reception 
awaited him, and Boston did not lag behind her sister cities. An 
invitation to visit Harvard, however, he flatly refused to accept. 
The authorities of that institution had recently conferred upon 
President Jackson the title of doctor of laws ; Crockett claimed 
to possess no degree and to wish for none " but a slight degree of 
common-sense;" one such doctor was enough for the state ; the 
people of his district interpreted LL. D. as " lazy, lounging 
dunce;" and he had no mind to run the riskof going to Cambridge, 
although he would spell with any of them as far as '' crucifix," 
where he had left off at school. 

Returning to Washington, he served the remainder of his term, 
and started home in good spirits with the handsome rifle which 
had been presented to him. His course was rather a round-about 
one, as he took Philadelphia, Pittsburgh and Louisville on the 
way, but he was none the less glad to get home to his little cab- 
in in the cane — his own home, his own land, his own beloved 
ones. Here he lived, until the congressional campaign of 1835 
opened, when he again took the field against a Jackson man. 
This was Adam Huntsman, a crippled soldier, whose services were 
made much of to the voters of the district. This nomination was 
secured by a practical joke, which illustrates the ready wit of 
the great hunter. 

Strolling up to a political meeting one day, with his rifle on 
his shoulder, Crockett was soon addressing the crowd. The free 



COLONEL DAVID OROCKETT. 363 

and independent voters lost no time in informing him that lis- 
tening to speeches was dry work, and that there was plenty of 
liquor in a shanty near by. This had been built by a Yankee, 
and stocked for that special occasion. So experienced a canvass- 
er as Crockett took the hint immediately, and leading the way 
to Job Snelling's bar, called for a quart; that worthy called his 
attention to a sign: " Pay to-day, trust to-morrow," and refused 
to fill the order without the money. This Crockett did not have, 
and the crowd that had gathered around him rapidly dispersed 
to seek his better provided rival. But although he was without 
money, he had no diflficulty in finding a ready substitute. Plung- 
ing into the woods, he had the good fortune to see, in a very 
short time, a fine fat coon. A well-aimed shot secured the prize, 
and back to the crowd he went. A coon-skin is not money, but 
was then and there recognized as the equivalent of a quart of 
rum, so that when Crockett threw it ujjon the rough counter, 
Snelling, without any hesitation, set out a bottle. This was soon 
disposed of, and the crowd listened to the speaker. They soon 
became clamorous for more liquor, however, and Davy, reflect- 
ing how long his sj)eech must last if he had to go and kill a coon 
so often, led the way to the bar. His quick eye and ready wit 
found him a way out of the difficulty; Snelling had thrown the 
coon skin under the counter, and Crockett, drawing it thence by 
the tail, which j^rotruded bcj^ond the logs, gravely presented it 
in payment for a second quart. Job was not at all popular in that 
country, as he was always on the alert to make money off the j^eo- 
jjlc, and this they did not relish ; so, though the trick was seen by 
many, no one betrayed the joker. The story circulated through 
the assembly, and made the liquor all the better. Again and 
again did they drink, the same coon-skin serving for pa3nnent, 
until, at the close of the day, ten quarts of rum had been con- 
sumed. The story went the rounds of the district, and the people 
concluded that a man sharp enough to trick Job Snelling was a 
better man to look after their interests than any war-worn vet- 
eran that ever lost a leg. After the election, Crockett went pri- 
vately to Snelling and offered him the price of the rum. 

"Wal, neow. Colonel," responded that honest individual, "I 
guess I Avon't take your money. You see, I like to be tricked 
once in awhile; it keeps me fromgittin' to think I'm tew all-fir- 
ed smart." 

lie had charged the nine quarts to the other candidate, who 



364 COLONEL DAVii) CKOCKETT. 

paid the bill, not knowing exactly how much might have been 
drunk at his expense. 

Contrary to all expectation, however, Crockett was beaten by 
over two hundred votes. This was attributed by him to unfair- 
ness of the judges, and to bribery by certain enthusiastic Jackson 
men. Even at that early day, the charge of corruption was not 
unheard or unfounded ; and even the President could stoop to 
electioneer for a dependent. Nor was the unsuccessful candi- 
date at all backward at expressing his opinions to his late consti- 
tuents J he told them what he thought about the fairness of the 
election, and warned them of the ruin towards which the country 
was going, as directed by Jackson and the " Little Flying Dutch- 
man," Van Euren; concluding by tolling them to go to — Hades 
( only he didn't use the Greek ) and he would go to Texas. 

Settling up his affairs as well as he could, and leaving his fam- 
ily well provided with food, he started out with his trusty rifle, 
to join in the struggle of the Texan patriots for freedom. Cor- 
dially received and well entertained at Little Eock, where he 
stopped for a few days, he proceeded on his journey. Embark- 
ing on a steamboat upon the Eed Eiver, he watched a game of 
thimble-rig, and finally made a bet with the trickster. Winning 
this, he refused to play any more, but by degrees acquired con- 
siderable influence over the man. Crockett learned that he had 
been educated " as a gentleman," and suddenly thrown on his 
own resources. One disrejDutable way of earning a livelihood 
had succeeded another, until now, when he earned a scanty living 
by this mode of cheating. Crockett took him to task in a friend- 
ly manner, and tried to shame him out of his evil practices, but 
he answered that it it was of no use to tr}"; he could not live like 
an honest man. 

" Then die like a brave one," exclaimed his enthusiastic men- 
tor. ''Most men are remembered as they died, and not as they 
lived. Come with me to Texas; cut aloof from your degrading 
habits and associates here, and in fighting with the Texans for 
their freedom, regain your own." 

Starting up, and striding two or three times across the room, 
the outcast stopped before his friend, and answered, with an 
oath : 

" I'll be a man again — live honestly, or die bravely. I'll go 
with you to Texas." 

He held to this resolution, and Crockett being determined, as 



COLONEL DAVIU CROCKETT. ' 



i65 



usual, to " go ahead," they sot out in comiDany early in the morn- 
ing after their landing. Stopping at night at a small tavern, 
they noticed, leaning against a tree, what might be called a back- 
woods dandy. This was the " Bee-hunter," introduced to them 
more favorably by the little incident that occurred early in the 




morning. A blustering, swaggering fellow, who imagined that 
the young man hud, on some previous occasion, insulted him, ap- 
proached him with the most offensive expressions. The Bee- 
hunter gave him no satisfaction for a long time, but at last, 
springing upon him, carried him to the i)ump, and there washed 



366 



COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 



all the fight out of him by a stream of water. With this hero 
Crockett and Thimblerig concluded to travel, especially when 
they found that he was an excellent guide across the prairies. 

The trio was soon separated, however; the Bee-hunter rode off 
suddenly, and apparently without cause ; Crockett, soon after- 
ward, saw a herd of buffaloes, and gave chase, and poor Thim- 




DESPERATE FIGHT WITH A COUGAR. 



blerig was left alone on the prairie. The buffaloes proved too 
swift for Crockett's mustang, and although he might have easily 
retraced his steps, it was always his principle to go ahead, and 
he would not turn back. Concluding that it would be impos- 
sible for him to return that night, he looked about him for a 
lodging place, and had selected the leafy branches of a tree, pros- 
trated by a recent storm, when a low growl warned him that it 



COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 



367 



was already occupied. In a moment more an immense Mexican 
cougar showed itself. Finding a ball from his rifle produced 
but little effect, Crockett clubbed his gun, but all his strength 
was not sufficient for the destruction of the animal. Seizing his 
hunting-knife, he slashed away at the creature, that, mad with 
the wound, fought as only a cougar could ; but at last it was 
stretched dead at his feet. Hardly had this enemy been despatched 
than he was alarmed by the approach of a large party of Indians ; 
but they proved friendly, and guided him back to the route. As 
' they approached a camj), they saw, seated by the fire, a solitary 
man busily engaged in some absorbing pastime. Drawing nearer, 

Crockett recognized Thimble- 
rig at his old occupation. The 
chief sounded the war-whoop, 
the warriors echoed it, and 
poor Thimblerig sprang to his 
feet in terror. Crockett reassur- 
ed him, and the Indians rode 
off, the chief happy in the gift 
of a bowie-knife from a white 
man whom he knew by the ad- 
venture with the coxigar to be 
a brave and skillful hunter. 
The Bee-hunter, Thimblerig 
GENERAL COS. Said, had returned laden with 

honey ; his apparently inexplicable conduct being explained by his 
having seen a single bee winging its way to the hive ; he was now 
hunting, in order to obtain meat for their supper, and soon re- 
turned to the camp with a wild turkey. Having cooked this, they 
were at supper with two others who had joined their party, when 
a company of fifteen or twenty horsemen aj^peared at a distance. 
The announcement from one of the strangers that these were 
Mexicans was followed by his description of them as ruffianly 
cowards. This was borne out by their conduct when the Ameri- 
cans returned their first fire. Flying like a cloud before the wind, 
they were pursued in hot haste, but succeeded in eluding the 
chase. Being now in sight of the independent flag flying over the 
fortress of the Alamo, our three heroes bent their way thither, 
and were welcomed by the shouts of the patriots. 

The garrison of only about one hundred and fifty men was 
commanded by Col. Travis, the famous Col. Bowie being also 




368 



COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 



present. The Mexican general, Santa Anna, was extremely anx- 
ious to obtain possession of the fortress again, as lie considered 
its surrender to the Texahs early in December, 1835, extremely 
disgraceful, although General Cos had been allowed to state his 
own terms of capitulation. The Americans even then were ex- 
pecting an attack, an anticipation only too well realized. Wan- 
dering hunters brought information of the movements of an at- 
tacking force. February 22, 1836, about sixteen hundred Mexi- 
cans, headed by Santa Anna himself, approached within two 




STORMING OF THK ALAMO. 

miles of the Alamo. The scouts reported that the assailants had 
endeavored to excite the Indians to hostilities against the Amer- 
icans, but that the Comanches held the Mexicans in such con- 
tempt that these efforts were of no avail. Early on the morning 
of the twenty-third, the enemy came in sight, marching in reg- 
ular order, and trying to display their force to the greatest pos- 
sible advantage, to terrify the garrison. But men who take up 
arms to fight for liberty are not easily frightened, and the gar- 
rison withdrew in good order from the town to the citadel, re- 
solving to defend it to the last. All their stores had been taken 
there on the first alarm. The Texan flag was raised — thirteen 
stripes of red and white alternating on a blue ground, with a 
large white star and the word Texas in the center. 



COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 369 

The eneni}- marched into the town under a flag whoso bloody 
hue proclaimed the merciless treatment that would be the lot of 
the patriots, if they surrendered. A messenger came in the af- 
ternoon to demand an unconditional and immediate surrender, 
but was answered by a cannon-shot- The Mexicans replied to 
this by a heavy fire, which was continued for many days. The 
Texan sharp-shooters made considerable havoc among the Mex- 




DEFKNCE OF THE ALAMO. 



icans, and were unhurt by their cannonading. Daily reinforce- 
ments came to the enemy, but the garrison, hoping for aid from 
two places, Goliad and Iicfugio, to which messengers had been 
sent, kept up hope. On the third of March, however, they de- 
spaired of assistance from without, and Col. Travis exhorted 
them, in case the enemy should carry tlie fort, to fight to the last 
gasp, and render the victory as serious to the victors as to the 
vanquished. Three hearty cheers approved this course. 

On the following day the messenger who had been despatched 
to Goliad and Refugio Avas seen running toward the fort hard 
pressed by half a dozen of the Mexican cavalry. Crockett, the 
Bee-hunter and two others, sallied out to his relief, and after a 
slight skirmish with the pursuers, chased them so far, in the ur- 



S70 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 

dor of the moment, that their retreat Avas cut off by another body 
of cavalry, which got between them and the fort. There was no 
course open to the Americans but to fight their way through. 
"Go ahead !" shouted Col. Crockett. Tliere were about twenty 
of the Mexicans, and they fought savagely until a larger detach- 
ment issued from the fort, when they retreated, leaving eight 
dead upon the field. The messenger and the Bee-hunter were 
m.ortally wounded, the former dying before they entered the 
fort. The latter, whose songs and jests had so often raised the 
spirits of the garrison, as his manl}'', unassuming piety had ex- 
cited their admiration, died about midnight, a sigh for his be- 
trothed escaping him as he sang: 

" But toom cam' the saddle, all bludy to see, 
And hame cam' the steed, but hame never cam' he." 

It was the last song she had sung to him, before he left her for 
the Alamo. 

The autobiography of David Crockett is the principal source 
of information in regard to these last days in the fortress. Un- 
der the date of March 5, 1836, we find this entry : ♦ 

"Pop, pop, po})! Boom, boom, boom! throughout the da}'. 
No time for memorandums now. Gro ahead ! Liberty and inde- 
pendence forever ! " 

That is the last. Before daybreak, on the sixth, the whole 
Mexican force assaulted the fortress, Santa Anna commanding. 
The battle raged fiercely until daylight, when only six men, of 
whom Col. Crockett was one, were left alive in the fort. These 
were surrounded, and, knowing resistance A^as useless, were 
compelled to yield. Gen. Castrillon, to whom they surren- 
dered, was brave but not cruel, and wishing to save the prison- 
ers, went to Santa Anna to ask for orders. "No quarter,'* had 
been the command, but Castrillon hoped that these few might be 
spared. "With steady and firm step Col. Crockett followed the 
humaner Mexican to his superior's presence, looking fidl and 
feai'lessly into the cruel com.mander's eye. 

"Your excellency," said Castrillon, "here are six prisoners I 
have taken alive; how shall I dispose of theni?" 

Looking at the general fiercely, Santa Anna answered, in a 
violent rage: 

" Have I not told you how to disj)Ose of them? Why do you 
bring them to me?" 

The murderous crew around him wanted no other orders to 



372 



COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 



fall upon the defenseless prisoners. Col. Ci'ockett sprang for- 
ward like a tiger at the ruffian, but a dozen swords were sheath- 
ed in his heart. "Without a groan, with a frown upon his brow, 
but a smile on his lips, he died. 

This is, for us, the end of the story. "With that battle, when 
the Texans, crjnng "Eemember the Alamo," swept down like a 
hurricane upon the Mexicans, with their final triumph in the 
struggle for independence, and subsequent annexation to the 
United States, we have nothing to do. The sixth of March, 1836, 
ends the life of an honest man, who served his country as best 
he could, who never refused to serve a fellow-creature, and who 
died fighting for another people. 

" Each of tlie heroes aronncl thee had fought for his land and his line, 
But thou ha£t fought for a etran<::;or, in hate of a wrong not thine." 




MOKtTMENT TO THE DEFENDERS OF THE ALAMO. 



CHAPTER XT. 

GENEEAL SAM HOUSTON". 

THE AUSTINS. 

THE first white men who descended the Mississippi doubtless 
looked with surprise upon the stream, when, for the first time, 
they saw a turbid flood mingling with its crystal waters. Side by 
side the golden river of the western mountains and the blue wa- 
ters from the north flow for miles, blending at last into one 
stream, truly the Father of Waters. The swift current carried 
them on, and the meeting of the two rivers was well-nigh forgot- 
ten. The mystery was not to be solved by men who had never 
ascended the Missouri to its native mountains, and in ignorance 
of its nature they passed on. 

When a man in the prime of life unites his fortunes to those of 
a state struggling for independence, and becomes a leader in 
peace and war, the earlier fortunes of each must be followed, in 
order that their union and its results may be understood. As the 
color of the Missouri is given to the lower Mississippi, so the hero 
affects the time in which he lives; and the history of the state 
gives him another dignity than he would have had alone, as sure- 
ly as the northern stream contributes to increase the volume of 
the mightier flood. If we would form a clear mental picture, 
then, of the life of Sam Houston, let us first turn to the early 
history of Texas. 

At the cession of the territory of Louisiana to the United 
States in 1803, Texas became debatable ground : claimed by our 
government as a part of the purchase; claimed by the Spanish 
authorities as never having been ceded to France, and hence not 
to bo sold by the rulers of that country. The United States did 
not give up claim to it until 1819, when a treaty was made by 
which Texas was relinquished to Spain, and Florida sold to the 
United States. The foundations of the independence of Texas 
were laid before Mexico, of which it formed a part, had thrown 



374 THE AUSTINS, 

off the Spanish yoke, and it was only as a »panish subject that 
the first settler of English descent could go there. 

Moses Austin, a native of Connecticut, had settled west of the 
Mississippi in 1798, owning allegiance to the government then ex- 
isting there. Procuring from the Spanish officials a grant of 
the lead mines of Potosi, sixty-five miles south of Saint Louis 
and forty miles west of Ste. Genevieve, he remained there con- 
tentedly for twenty years. Peduced to comparative poverty by 
the failure of the bank of Missouri, he projected apian for colon- 
izing parts of Texas with emigrants from the United States. 
Going to San Antonio, the capital of the province, in the fall of 

1820, to further his plans, the governor ordered him to leave the 
country, or suffer imprisonment. As he left the office, naturally 
discouraged by this unfriendly reception, he mot Baron de Bas- 
trop, an alcalde of the city who had come to Mexico on a special 
mission from the King of Spain, and choosing to make it his 
home, had acquired considerable influence. He had known Aus- 
tin before, and readily lent his voice to the scheme, obtaining a 
more favorable hearing from Gov. Martinez. A petition was 
drawn up and signed by the local authorities, praying the gov- 
ernment to allow Austin to bring three hundred families into 
Texas; but "the law's delay'' was such that no immediate action 
was taken upon it, and Austin returned to his Missouri home. So 
well was he assured of success, however, that he immediately 
commenced preparations for removal. In the succeeding spring 
(1821) ho received information that the desired permission had 
been granted, but his energy was subdued as never before : a 
cold had settled upon his lungs, and a few days after he died. 

The scheme of planting a colony in Texas was left as a legacy 
to his son, Stephen Fuller Austin, who at the age of twenty- 
eight had already been a member of the territorial Legislature 
of Missouri, and a circuit judge in Arkansas. To this latter ter- 
ritory he had removed to promote his father's plans by raising 
corn and other provisions to supply the train of emigrants on 
their way. To him, therefore, the bequest was not unexpected 
or unwelcome, and his best energies were bent to accomplish the 
task. Towards Texas he bent his steps, meeting upon the way 
the commissioners sent to conduct his father to the land grant- 
ed. Austin, the commissioners and fourteen colonists made up 
the party that arrived in San Antonio on the twelfth of August, 

1821, and immediately proceeded to select the lands. The fertile 



THE AUSTINS. 375 

region watered by the Brazos, Colorado and Guadalupe Eivers 
was chosen, and Col. Austin returned to New Orleans to ad- 
vertise for colonists. Such were not difficult to find, but on his 
return a new trouble arose. The change in the government of 
Mexico necessitated a journey to the capital, to secure a confirm- 
ation of his grant. The new government was anxious to encour- 
age immigration, and made even better terms than Spain j and 
Feb. 18, 1823, this grant was confirmed. 

Mexico was just beginning to establish her reputation as a 
mother of revolutionists; and independence having been secured 
by the first rebellion, a second speedily followed. This detained 
Austin for a long time at the capital, and when he reached the 
colony he had been absent a j'ear. Of course this did not tend 
to reassure the immigrants, some of whom had returned home. 
Encouraged by the presence of the leader, and of De Bastrop, 
who had been apjiointed their Land Commissioner, the town of 
San Felipe de Austin was laid out, and land having been assigned 
to each settler in proportion to his needs, all set to work. This 
was a time to severely test the leader's abilit}', but, weighed in 
the balance, he was not found wanting. Everywhere his help 
was given; from the "raising" of a house or the clearing of a 
corn-field, to the framing of a code of laws, the task received his 
assistance. At once civil governor, military commander and 
judge of their only court, he was the father of the colony, and 
looked well to his offspring. 

!Nor was this the only settlement made under his direction. 
At different periods between this first iminigration and the 
year 1835, more than fifteen hundred persons had come to Texas 
under his direction. The colony had its own difficulties, how- 
ever, with which to contend. One of these was the rapidly in- 
creasing number of immigrants; it became impossible for the 
settlers already there to raise enough grain for all until the la- 
test comers should have time to plant and gather a crop, and 
often they must clothe themselves in skins, and live upon game. 

But their chief trouble was with the Indians. Their hunting 
parties must be large, to guard against sudden attack from the 
savages ; while a sufficient number must be left at home to pro- 
tect the settlement. The savages had been eJcasperatcd against 
the whites by the conduct of Lafittc. This notorious pirate had 
for many years been master of the Mexican and Texas coast, 
when, in 1817, he made Galveston Island his headquarters, and 



376 



THE AUSTINS. 



gathered around him a thousand follo-wers. Preying upon the 
Sj^anish and American commerce alike, they paid no heed to the 
rights of any man. The savages, exasperated by their kidnap- 




LAinXTK, THE PIRATE. 



ping of squaws, assaulted their encampment many times, but were 
as often driven back with terrible slaughter. Becoming at last 
insupportable, the United States sent out an expedition to break 
up the nest, and the pii'ates were driven to Yucatan. Having 



THE AUSTINS, 377 

cursed Texas with their j)resence for so many years, they left 
her a legacy of hatred hy the Indian for the white man. 

For two or three years the Indians continued to annoy the col- 
onists, not by attacks upon the town, but by robberies and mur- 
ders committed whenever the weakness of a traveling party 
tempted them. Stories are tiresome when all have the same in- 
cidents and the same results, so we need not touch upon the con- 
flicts between the settlers and the savages, ending by the latter's 
pledge not to come east of San Antonio. So well had the lesson 
of submission been taught that this treaty was never violated. 

In 1823-4, the surrounding country was much infested with 
robbers, who often concealed that crime by murder; but a sever- 
ity only justified by the circumstances, struck a wholesome terror 
into the hearts of the highwaymen. 

Austin's was not the only colony brought into Texas from the 
United States, but the others had not the same advantages. San 
Felipe was surrounded by a vast tract of unclaimed lands, and 
when these were granted to Austin, there was no man to dispute 
his right; but the rest were located by the government upon 
lands claimed by others, and those fomented the poj^ular feeling 
of the Mexicans against the Americans. 

The colony most unfortunate in this respect was that of which 
Hadjden Edwards was empresario, or leader. After land had 
been granted to the settlers and improved by them, old Mexican 
claims were revived, and the officials, jealous of the rapidly in- 
creasing element, decided invariably against the Americans. 
The difficulty soon culminated in war, and the Fredonians al- 
lied themselves with the Indians, through the agency of John 
Dunn Hunter. This was a white man who had been captured by 
tne Cherokees when a child, and who had obtained almost para- 
mount influence in the tri be. These allies were secured by a prom- 
ise that when success had been obtained, Texas should be divid- 
ed equally between the Indians and Americans ; for the Fredo- 
nians aimed at no less aprize than the political independence of 
Mexico. But Texas was not yet ready for self-government ; the 
Mexican forces, under Col. Bean, attacked and routed the Fredon- 
ians ; the Indians were bought off from their alliance by gifts of 
land; to show their attachment to the established authority, the 
savages murdered Hunter, who would have kept them to their 
first promise; Edwards was dispossessed of his grant, and he and 
his colonists returned to the United States. 



iiis 



THE AUSTINS. 



During this war in Fredonia, the other colonies progressed 
finely. But all were regarded with a jealous eye by the Mexi- 
cans, because they so faithfully preserved their own institutions. 

At the time when Mexico was a dependency of Spain, Texas 
had beei| a separate province; but when the independent consti- 
tution was adopted, Coahuila and Texas were made one state. 




THE MUKDER OF HUNTEE. 

This large extent of territory being comprised under one govern- 
ment, and that ineflSeient, crying evils naturally arose. The con- 
stitution of this double state was adopted in 1827, being ostensibly 
modeled on that of the United States, but with fatal diiferences. 
One law passed in 1830, prohibited further immigration from the 
United States. This, however, was disregarded by those who wish- 
ed to come, and in 1831 the Americans there numbered about 
twenty thousand. 



GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. 379 

The Mexican revolution of 1832 showed clearly the strength of 
Texas, and hence increased the jealous hatred of the Mexicans 
towards her. The anxiety of the United States government to 
extend its limits to the southwest also contributed to strengthen 
their suspicions of the colonists. The Americans were accused 
of trjang to carry their new home over to their native country, 
and for this purpose, it was thought, they fought so steadily for 
what they had learned to consider their rights. 

Every man of discernment saw that the day was not far distant 
when Texas would be no longer a part of Mexico ; but Austin tried 
to keep his colony peaceful and prosperous, that, when the time 
came for the struggle, their efforts might be crowned by success. 
He had refused to aid the Predonians, for their revolt was pre- 
mature; his duty to his adopted country forbade his encour- 
aging resistance to its legally constituted authorities, when, al- 
though there were evils, they were hardly such as could or should 
be redressed by fighting. He knew that his colonists, free-born 
Anglo-Americans as they were, would not always submit to the 
government of men accustomed to tyranny, and modelling their 
state after those of the Dark Ages of Europe. 

GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. 

Whatever laws might be made, there was no such thing possi- 
ble as keeping the adventurous and daring spirits of the United 
States out of any place whither they wished to go, and the dis- 
turbances of 1832 attracted many such to Texas. Not the least 
among these, if we consider either his previous position or his 
later services, was Sam Houston, whose voluntary exile from Ten- 
nessee, for the jiast three years, had been explained in many ways. 

Born in Eockbridge County, Virginia, in 1793, his father died 
in 1807, leaving a widow and nine children in destitute circum- 
stances. Removal to Blount County, Tennessee, immediately 
followed, and here the youth of our hero was spent in alternately 
attending school, working on his mother's farm, and clerking in 
a store; until suddenly he left home and joined the Cherokee 
Indians. This wild life does not appear to have lasted very long, 
for we find him, while still a mere boy, teaching school in order 
to pay off some debts. At the age of twenty, he enlisted in the 
army for the Creek war, then raging in Florida, and by his gal- 
lantry in action won the approval of Gen. Jackson. His daring 
on the field at the battle of the Horseshoe resulted in several 



380 



GENERAIi b.vM HOUSTON. 



severe "woiindR, from Avliich he did not recover for over a year j 
and in the promotion to the rank of second lieutenant. 

Being appointed sub-agent for the Cherokee Indians in 1817, 
he was soon accused of abusing his authority; but investigation 
proved that the charges were made by contractors whom he had 
displeased by his integrity. Receiving in the succeeding year a 
commission as first lieutenant, dated back a year, he resigned his 




jiorsroN worNHKT) jx jnK creek war. 
military and civil honors in 1819, to devote himself to the study 
of the law. In this profession he speedily attained eminence, 
being in 1819 elected District Attorney ; at the same time the ti- 
tle of Major-General of militia was accorded to him. Political 
honors, also, awaited him. Elected and re-elected to Congress 
in 1823 and '25, he left his seat there at the close of his second 



GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. 381 

term only to afecend the steps of the gubernatorial mansion as its 
master. In 1829 he was happily married, and to all appearance 
there was no cloud in the sky. His majority had been over- 
whelming, his popularity was unbounded, his administration met 
with no opposition. Such was the brilliancy of his prospects 
when, without any warning to those outside their mansion, Mrs. 
Houston returned to her father's house, and the governor resigned 
his office and fled from the city in disguise. The news fell like 
a thunderbolt u2:)on his friends. Neither of the two who alone 
could satisfy curiosity ever told the story, and the secret has 
gone down with them into the grave. 

Houston, on leaving the city, went to the Cherokees, who were 
now settled on the Arkansas River in the Indian Territory, and 
was by them formally admitted to all the rights of citizenship in 
the tribe. But his absence was a puzzling thing to those interest- 
ed in him, and it was accounted for in various ways. There are al- 
ways those who are ready to impute evil, and j)erhaps the memory 
of Burr's treason, which men still in the prime of life had known 
at the time, predisposed them to suspect Houston. It was rum- 
ored that he was to invade and detach Texas from the Mexican 
government; that he was to aid Mexico against the Spanish in- 
vasion; that he was to collect a party of white adventurers and 
join them to his Indian friends, no one knew for what purpose. 
So well-defined were these reports that they reached the ears of 
President Jackson, who immediately wrote to Houston to depre- 
cate such a thing as the attack upon Texas. Similar information, 
claiming to be obtained from Houston himself, 'reached the Pres- 
ident again, and Jackson confidentially directed the secretary of 
state of Arkansas to keep him informed of any movements on 
Houston's part which might seem to confirm this intelligence. ^ 
He soon received the welcome news that there were no such 
movements on foot. 

Appointed confidential Indian agent to the tribes of the south- 
west in 1832, it was probably in the early part of the succeeding 
year that he went to Texas, He had been solicited by friends 
there, as early as 1829, to join them, but had preferred his life in 
the Cherokee nation. When he did cross the boundary it was 
probably, at first, in prosecution of the work assigned him as 
Indian agent. The Mexicans complained a great deal of the in- 
roads of Indians from the United States, and Houston had orders 
from our government to induce them to leave Texas and return 



332 COLONEL JAMES BOWIE. 

to their reservations. While engaged in this work, which the 
jealousy of the Mexican authorities rendered unsuccessful, he 
met with Col. James Bowie, around whose name clusters so many 
border associations, and who lived and died so bravely for Texas, 
that it will not be out of place to introduce him still more fully 
to the reader. 

COLONEL JAMES BOWIE. 

A native of Greorgia, his parents removed to Louisiana in 1802, 
with their five sons, of whom the most famous in after years was 
the second, James. Here he grew to manhood, tall and well- 
proportioned, fair-haired and blue-eyed 3 erect in bearing, mild 
and quiet in his manner; jovial and companionable, but not a 
drunkard; with a wonderful art of winning people to him, and 
extremely prodigal of his money. Contrary to the impression 
which generally prevails, he was not an habitual duelist. The 
knife which bears his name, and which was first made by his bro- 
ther, Rezin P. Bowie, was never but once used by him except as a 
hunting knife. This single occasion was in 1827, when James 
Bowie met, on a sand-bar in the Mississippi, an antagonist by 
whom he had been, on a previous occasion, waylaid and shot. 
James Bowie fell at the first fire, and his opponent, Wright, was 
advancing to give him the coup de grace, when Bowie drew the 
knife and killed him. Several others were killed in this fight, 
for the quarrel had been well known, and both men had many 
partisans. After a lucrative trade in the negroes cajDtured by 
Lafitte, bought by the Bowies and sold in Louisiana, James and 
Rezin P. Bowie settled in Texas, in 1830, the former became a 
naturalized citizen, and soon afterward married the daughter of 
the Vice Governor of San Antonio. 

Late in 1831, the two brothers, accompanied by seven of their 
countrymen and two negro servants, set out in search of the de- 
serted silver mines of San Saba. They had been on the road more 
than two weeks when they were overtaken by two Comanches 
and a Mexican captive. Early the next morning, before they 
had left the camp, the Mexican of that party arrived in a state of 
great exhaustion, with a warning message from the Comanche 
chief. Over a hundred and fifty hostile Indians would soon at- 
tack the little party, in spite of the efi'orts of the Comanches to 
dissuade them. The chief offered what assistance he could give 
them, but his party only numbered sixteen, badly armed and 
without ammunition. Col. Bowie deemed it wisest to push on 



COLONEL JAMES BOWIE. 383 

towards the old fort on the San Saba, and the Mexican returned 
to his party. 

But with bad roads and worn-out horses, it was impossible for 
them to travel thirty miles that day. It was at first difficult for 
them to find any camping-place where they would be at all secure 
from the Indians, but finally they selected a cluster of live-oak 
trees, near which was a thicket of bushes of similar growth, and, 
thirty or forty yards in another direction, a stream of water. 
They were not disturbed during the night, but in the morning, 
just as they were about to leave the camp, discovered the Indians 
about two hundred yards away. They numbered one hundred 
and sixty-four, while there were eleven men, all told, in the camp. 
The whites accordingly wished to avoid a fight, and sent outEe- 
zin Bowie and David Buchanan to parley with them. Advanc- 
ing to within forty yards of where they had halted, Bowie asked 
them, in their own tongue, to send forward their chief to talk 
with him. They replied in English with the salutation : "How d'ye 
do ? How d'ye do ?" and with a volley from their rifles, breaking 
Buchanan's leg. With his wounded comrade on his back, Bowie 
started back to the encampment, followed by a heavy fire. Bu- 
chanan was wounded twice again, but slightly, while Bowie es- 
caped unhurt. A spirited contest now ensued, the rifles of the 
whites doing deadly work among the Indians on the oj)en prai- 
rie. Slowly and surely the savages closed around the little camp 
in a complete circle, and the white men almost despaired of driv- 
ing them off. But the Indians were by no means pleased at their 
success; every volley from the camp brought down five or six 
of their warriors, while they had no guide for their aim but the 
smoke of the white men's guns. They now determined to resort 
to stratagem, and set fire to the dry grass of the prairie with a 
double object in view; it would at once drive the whites from 
their shelter, and enable the Indians, under cover of the smoke, 
to carry off their dead and wounded. A change in the wind ren- 
dered the position of the white men doubly dangerous, driving 
the fire directly upon them; if they remained where they were, 
they would be burned alive; if they left it, it would be to fall 
into the hands of the enemy. Only one fire remained in their 
guns, and in the shower of sparks no man dared open his poAvder- 
horn. The thicket which sheltered them was now burnt, and 
they set about building a breastwork of loose stones and of earth 
which they dug ujj with their knives and sticks. The fight had 



384 



COLONEL JAMES BOWIE. 



lasted since sunrise, and it was now nearly night. The Indians 
withdrew to a distance of about three hundred yards, and en- 
camped, while BoAvie's party working hard at the earthwork, 
succeeding in raising it breast-high by ten o'clock. As they 
worked, they could hear the wild lament of the Indians over their 
dead, and when they awoke at the change of guard, the sad 
sounds still greeted their ears. They prepared for another at- 
tack next day, although their originally small party had been 




GENERAL SAKTA ANNA. 

much reduced, one man being killed and three wounded; but the 
Indians did not again attack them. Eight days were passed here, 
when they returned to San Antonio, a twelve days' journey. 

Such was the famous Col. Bowie, of whose death by the hands 
of the enemies of Texas we shall learn later on. His introduc- 
tion of Houston to various Mexican authorities probably proved 
of material advantage to our hero. Of course it was Houston's 
character and reputation that drew Bowie to him, and that, only 
two months after his first coming to Texas, led to his election as 



STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. 385 

a delegate to the postponed constitutional convention. Houston 
was the chairman of the committee that framed a constitution to 
be submitted to the general government and to the people; a 
brief, but model document, that would have insured to the Tex- 
ans, had it ever gone into effect, all those rights and privileges 
so dear to the people of the United States. Three delegates were 
chosen, to present this constitution to the supreme government, 
Stephen F. Austin being elected by the largest majority. For 
some reason the others, "Wharton and Miller, did not execute the 
commission, and Austin went alone to the capital. 

Santa Anna had been recently elected President, but had re- 
tired to his estates, leaving Yice President Farias in charge of 
the government. His design was to overturn the constitution 
and establish a "strong" government, with himself as dictator; 
hoping that his retirement would relieve him of responsibility. 
Meanwhile, all political business was thrown into disorder, which 
was further increased by a terrible epidemic prevailing in the city. 
In a few weeks, cholera carried off ten thousand of the inhabit- 
ants of the metropolis; it spread to the provinces; the meetings 
of Congress, even, were deranged b}'' it. 

Austin despaired of the success of his mission. He had already 
urged his suit with such importunity as to offend Farias ; there 
was no j)rospect that Congress would take any action upon it. 
Full of disappointment, he wrote to a citizen of San Antonio, 
recommending that all the municipalities of Texas unite in form- 
ing a state, under the constitution of 1824, and thus prepare to 
resist a refusal of their application. Some one in San Antonio 
sent a copy of this letter to Farias, who received it after Austin 
had left the capital. An express was immediately despatched, 
and Austin arrested and carried back to a Mexican prison. For 
four months he lay in close confinement from the light of day, 
and for a time denied the use of writing materials. These were 
furnished him, however, by a priest who had ministered to the 
colony of San Felipe — a warm personal friend, — and the musings 
written in pencil in a small memorandum book give a picture 
of his mind. 

In June his condition was improved. He was removed to 
more comfortable quarters, and given to understand that he would 
— sometime — be brought to trial. The charge was treason, and 
the first court before which he was brought was a military one. 
The judge decided it was a case over which he had no jurisdic- 



386 STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. 

tion. A civil court was next tried, but the same decision was 
given. The judges knew that there were no real charges, but 
were equally afraid to acquit or convict. Austin ascribed his 
persecution to a crew of land-sharks, who had fraudulently ob- 
tained eight hundred leagues of land around Monclova. These 
men knew that if he were at liberty,' he would expose their claim. 

During his imprisonment, he was re-elected to the Legislature, 
but never occupied his seat. Rumors reached him, now accusing 
him of being too Mexican, now of paying too much deference to 
popular opinion in Texas. At last, after he had been in prison 
for a year and a half, and absent ten months longer, he was al- 
lowed to return to San Felipe in September, 1835. The greater 
part of the time that he was a prisoner the confinement was mere- 
ly nominal, and he was treated with flattering attentions by Santa 
Anna, when that official resumed the reins of power. Nearly a 
year before Austin was permitted to return, the President had 
taken the petitions of the Texans under consideration, convoking 
a special council, in which Austin had a seat, for that purpose. 
His decision was adverse to the erection of Texas into a separate 
state," although he held out hopes that he would organize it as a 
territory. 

Texas had been the scene of confusion for two years. Early in 
1835 the Federal Congress had reduced the number of the militia 
to one soldier for each five hundred inhabitants, and decreed that 
the others should be disarmed. This measure was intended to 
prevent resistance to anything that Santa Anna might propose, 
but failed signally. While the President was pretending to give 
favorable attention to them, he was really planning a military 
occupation of the state, and only awaiting an excuse to punish 
them for their boldness. 

This excuse was soon made by oppression. The spirit of the 
people had been aroused by various tyrannical actions, in the 
assessment and collection of taxes, in quartering soldiers upon 
the people, and in arresting several citizens upon slight pretence. 

In pursuance of the decree directing the disarming of the citi- 
zens, Captain Castinado was sent to seize a small cannon at Gon- 
zales, that was used against the Indians. The citizens were pre- 
pared to resist the demand by force, and the Mexicans were soon 
compelled to withdraw. The warlike spirit spread like a prairie 
fire in the fall ; and before a month had passed, two forts, Goliad 
and Lipantitlan, garrisoned by Mexicans, had been captured. 



STEPHEN F. AUSTIN. 



387 



This was done by volujiteers Avho were without military organ- 
ization, the leader being elected only for one attack. Some of the 
more prominent men in camp wrote to San Felipe requesting 
Austin to come to them, and ho was elected their commander. 




A TEX/VX RANGER. 

At this stage there were two parties in Texas, one declaring 
for war, the other for peace. Of this latter, the leading spirit 
was Sam Houston, who, in August, 1835, introduced at a meeting 
in San Augustine a series of resolutions which, although they 
remonstrated against Santa Anna's tyranny, professed loyalty to 
the national constitution of 1824. But it soon became evident, 
even to him, that it was impossible to prevent war, and in Nov- 
ember of the same year he accepted the commission tendered 
him — commander of the troops of Eastern Texas. 
25 



388 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 

Houston did not wish to interfere with Gen. Austin, and, when 
the latter urged him to take entire command, absolutely refused 
to do so; saying that Austin had been elected by the troops, and 
the reinforcements had been enlisted under them ; that if he were 
to resign it might afford ground for discontent. The same Gen- 
eral Council, which elected Houston to his military position, es- 
tablished a provisional government, and, after declaring the stand 
which Texas had taken to be in accordance with the support of 
the constitution of 1824, adjourned until March 1, 1836. At this 
second session, Austin was sent as a commissioner to the United 
States to secure loans to maintain the government ; Henry Smith 
was elected governor, and Houston commander-in-chief. 

But the interval between these two sessions is not devoid of 
interest. On the second of November, the Texan army, number- 
ing at least a thousand men, left Concepcion, where, on the twen- 
ty-eighth of October, they had defeated the Mexicans under 
Gen. Cos, losing but one man to the enemy's sixty, and marched to 
San Antonio de Bexar, one and a half miles away. The town had 
been put in good condition to maintain a siege, breastworks be 
ing thrown up at the entrance of every street into the square, a 
redoubt erected in a vacant lot fronting the plaza, and artillery 
mounted behind the parapet on the roof of the old church. The 
Mexicans numbered about eight hundred, and were well supplied 
with cannon, while the Texans had but five small pieces. It had 
been decided that to storm the place would involve the loss of too 
many men, and that, therefore, a regular siege should be ordered. 

Every effort was made to draw the enemy out of his fortifica- 
tions, but in vain. They S0021 gave evidence of weakness by send- 
ing horses away to lessen the consumption of provisions; three 
hundred animals, sent to Laredo, were Ciii:)turcd by a detachment 
under Col. Travis; their poor condition showed the scarcity of 
provender in the town, and Austin thought that it could not long 
hold out. But Cos was waiting for reinforcements, and would not 
surrender. The Texans grew impatient with inaction, and the 
besieging force gradually diminished, until, by the fourteenth, 
there were less than six hundred. 

The " Grass Fight," as it is called, occurring on the twenty- 
sixth, was the first engagement of note during the siege. A for- 
aging party, sent out by Gen. Cos, was attacked by Col. Bowie and 
a force of about one hundred men. A confused, running fight, the 
Mexicans being reinforced, resulted favorably for the Texans. 



TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 389 

They had none killed, two wounded and one missing, while the 
enemy had fifty killed and several wounded. 

The Texans were reinforced before assistance reached the 
Mexicans. Mexico complained bitterly of the assistance in men, 
ammunition, and money that Ngav Orleans was busily transmit- 
ting to the rebel citizens of a friendly government. President 
Jackson replied -that there was no law in the United States to 
prohibit the transmission of arms or funds or prevent persons 
from leaving the country, if they did not organize forces within 
its limits. So high ran the feeling that forces were organized 
within the United States, but no one notified the authorities, and 
more than one well equijiped company was sent to aid the pa- 
triots. Notable among these were the New Orleans Grays, two 
companies of which were sent to San A.ntonio in less than a month 
and a half after the news of the Texan revolution had reached 
New Orleans. 

Gen. Burleson was now in command of the army around Bexar, 
which, although considerably reinforced, did not number more 
than eight hundred men. An attack on the town was ordered, 
but subsequently postponed. The rage of the soldiers on learning 
the latter decision was indescribable, and when, late in the even- 
ing of the fourth of December, Col. Benjamin R. Milam cried : 
"Who will go with old Ben Milam into San Antonio ?" he was 
answered by a shout from every man in the army. The assault 
took place on the morning of the fifth, and for four days the Tex- 
ans pressed hard upon the enemy. At length, on the morning of 
the ninth. Gen. Cos, who was now shut up in the Alamo, sent a 
flag of truce, expressing a desire to capitulate. Easy terms were 
given, the officers being required to pledge their word of honor 
that they would not in any way opj)ose the re-establishment of 
the constitution of 1824. 

Col. Milam was killed earlv in the assault, and the honor of 
the victory belonged to Col. Johnson, ujion whom the command 
devolved. To him, also. Gen. Burleson delegated the command 
at the Alamo, leaving a force sufiicient to garrison it; the re- 
mainder of the army dispersed. The humanity with which the 
wounded Mexicans were treated was remarkable in the annals of 
war, but, as we shall see later, the lesson was lost u]Don the en- 
emy. 

But new difiiculties were to beset the new republic, only to be 
averted by a clear head and a strong hand. An effort was made 



890 



TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 



to depose the existing authorities on account of inefficiency ; but 
Houston replied to this speech, in a meeting at San Felipe, with 
such effect that the mover of the resolutions tore them up and 
left the assembly. "While these internal dissensions weakened 
Texas, Mexico became the more united. The surrender of Cos 
at San Antonio was by the Mexicans regarded as a disgrace, and 
all concurred in an eager desire to avenge the dignity of the re- 
public. Of this feeling the Texans were hardly aware; they 
still looked for co-operation from the other states in supporting 
the constitution of 1824, yet, with a strange inconsistency, were 
looking confidently forward to independence. It was in accord- 
ance with this feeling of the Mexicans that Santa Anna deter- 
mined to lead the Mexican army in person into Texas, and, col- 
lecting a force and maintaining it by a tax of one per cent, every 
twenty days, he entered the state a little after the middle of Feb- 
ruary, 1836. At the beginning of the war in the previous year, 
the Texans had united to repel 
the invader; but now they show- 
ed not one hundredth part of that 
activity. They were exhausted 
by privations and toils ; they did 
not believe that Santa Anna 
would enterthe state again ; there 
would be volunteers from the 
United States to assist them, if 
they waited ; and the quarrels 
of the civil authorities had a par- 
alyzing effect upon the people. 
The invasion was a thing not to 
be denied by the civil or mili- 
tary officers, however, and Gov. Smith despatched Col. Travis, 
Gen. Houston and Col. Bowie, each with a force of thirty men, 
to the relief of Bexar. On the twenty-third of February, the 
town was regularly invested by a force of five or six thousand, 
the besieged numbering but one hundred and forty-five. These 
are the numbers as stated by Col. Travis, in a letter written dur- 
ing the siege. On the sixth of March, 1836, the Alamo fell. The 
garrison had held out a long time, and had fought desperately; 
the commander, Travis, fell, mortally wounded by a ball; a Mex- 
ican officer rushed towards him with drawn sword; the hero of 
the Alamo, rousing himself with the energy of despair, drew his 




GENERAL SAM HOUSTON. 



TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 3^1 

own sword, and tlie two enemies closed in a fatal union, the 
sword of each sheathed into the breast of the other. Such was the 
spirit with which these men fought for their independence. Every 
prisoner was slain. The corpse of Travis was hunted out from 
the heaps of slain, that Santa Anna might run his sword through 
it. Two officers were detailed to pile up the bodies of the defend- 
ers and burn them. In the search they found a man still alive, 
lying sick on a stretcher. 

" Do you know him?" asked one. 

" I think," replied the other, " it is the infamous Col. Bowie." 

They berated him for fighting against the Mexican government ; 
he replied by denouncing them for fighting under such a tyrant 
as Santa Anna ; they commanded silence ; he answered : 

" Not when ordered by such as you." 

"Then we will relieve you of your tongue," rejoined one of 
the officers. 

The brutal order was given to the soldiers near by, and speed- 
ily obeyed. The bleeding and mutilated body of the gallant Tex- 
an was thrown upon the heap of the slain, the funeral pile of the 
patriots saturated with camphene, and the tall pillar of flame 
that shot upward bore the soul of Bowie up to God. 

A woman and a negro servant were the only persons in the 
fort whose lives were spared. These were sent to G-en. Houston, 
accompanied by a Mexican, who was commanded to offer peace 
and general amnesty to the Texans, if they would lay down their 
arms and submit to the government of Santa Anna. Gen. Hous- 
ton's answer was : 

" True, sir, you have succeeded in killing some of our bravest 
men, but the Texans are not yet conquered." 

These words were accompanied by a copy of the Declaration 
of Independence, which had been adopted at Washington on the 
second of the month. 

Having taken San Antonio, Santa Anna diverted the attention 
of the patriots by feints upon Gonzales and Bastrop, and then 
marched upon Goliad, where Col. Fannin, the hero of Concep- 
cion, was stationed with a small force of volunteers, variously 
estimated. In obedience to an order from Gen. Houston, Fannin, 
who had greatly diminished his force by sending out parties to 
the assistance of neighboring settlements, set out towards Yicto- 
ria. After a march of six or eight miles towards the Coleta, he 
ordered a halt, to graze and rest the oxen and refresh the troops. 



392 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 

The mareli had hardly been resumed, when they were attacked 
by the Mexicans. All day long they fought, and when night 
came, as neither side had gained a decisive victory, the Texan 
officers decided that that they could not save their wounded with- 
out cai^itulating. A white flag sent out by them was promptly 
answered by the enemy; the Mexican General Urrea would treat 
only with the commanding officer. Col. Fannin, though crippled 
by a wound, went out and made excellent terms. The Texans 
were to be received and treated as prisoners of war, and were 
accordingly marched back to Goliad, where they arrived March 
22d. On the evening of the twenty-sixth, the prisoners were dis- 
cussing their departure to the United States, whither they were 
to be sent, and some were playing "Home, Sweet Home," upon 
the flute, when a courier arrived from Santa Anna. At dawn the 
next day (Palm Sunday), the Texans were formed in several di- 
visions and marched off in different directions. Four Texan 
physicians, who had been employed in caring for the Mexican 
wounded, were taken to the tent of Col. Guerrier, a Mexican 
officer. A volley was heard from the east; another from the 
south; more than one voice cried "Hurrah for Texas!" before 
it was stilled forever; many fled for their lives, but were fol- 
lowed and cut down by the cavalry. 

" Can it be possible," asked Dr. Shackelford of Col. Guerrier, as 
that officer entered his tent, that they are murdering our men?" 

" It is true," answered the Mexican, " but I have not given the 
order or executed it." 

Three hundred and thirty Texans suffered death by that order 
of Santa Anna's, about twenty-seven escaping to their friends. 

Santa Anna was now fully convinced that Texas was almost 
completely subdued, and j)roposed to return, leaving a subordi- 
nate officer to finish the work ; but the representations of his 
generals prevented him from carrying out this plan. The Texan 
army retreated towards the west, Houston having decided to 
make the Colorado the line of defence; but the panic, which 
spread through the country, kept men at home to defend their 
families, and thus no reinforcements came. This panic was main- 
ly produced by the deserters from Houston's army. The com- 
mander-in-chief earnestly begged the chairman of the military 
committee to re-assure the people. "We can raise three thou- 
sand men in Texas," he wrote, "and fifteen hundred can defeat 
all that Santa Anna can send to the Colorado." Every effort was 



TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 393 

made to raise more troops, but no reinforcements had arrived 
when the news of Fannin's surrender came. The army was about 
to attack the Mexicans, but on hearing this intelligence, Houston 
decided not to risk a battle — these few men around him were the 
only hope of Texas — and ordered a retreat. " I held no councils 
of war," he said, in announcing this movement to the govern- 
ment. "If I err, the blame is mine." The retreat was commen- 
ced on the evening of the twenty-sixth of March ; being rein- 
forced by one hundred and thirty men. Encamping west of the 
Brazos, the enemy gradually advanced upon them. The Texans 
had received some reinforcements, and had also succeeded in 
bringing up two six-pounders, the famous pieces of artillery pre- 
sented by citizens of Cincinnati, and named the Twin Sisters. 
They crossed the Brazos, and here Houston told them that he had 
been blamed by some because the Texans were not permitted to 
meet the enemy j but that, as soon as circumstances would per- 
mit, they should have fighting to their satisfaction. Texas could 
not survive two battles j they could not merely check the enemy ; 
he must be whipped, and the work done in one fight. 

On the seventh of April Houston notified the armj^ to be ready 
for action at any moment. The spies kept them informed of the 
movements of the enemy, and on the nineteenth they learned 
that Santa Anna was there in person. The Texans continued 
their march, closely followed by the Mexicans, until on the 
twenty -first both were encamped near the San Jacinto river. 
Here at noon of that day a council of war was hold under a 
tree, the officers discussing whether they should attack the enemy 
or await an attack from him. Some of them urged that the 
strength of Santa Anna's position and the coolness of his veterans 
would be disastrous to the raw militia of their army, but others 
favored the attack. A bridge, which was the only passage to the 
Brazos, was hewn down by the Texans to cut off the retreat 
of the Mexicans. About three in the afternoon, the Texan army 
formed in line of battle. The twin sisters opened a destructive 
fire upon the Mexicans when within about two hundred yards of 
their breastworks; and the whole line, advancing in double-quick 
time, crying "Eemember the Alamo ! Remember Goliad!" pour- 
ed a murderous firo into their ranks. The Texans never halted, 
but on the left pressed on to the woodland, driving the Mexicans 
before them, the cavalry on the right meeting with the same suc- 
cess. In the center the enemy's artillery had been taken, and 



8d4 



TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 




HOUSTON DICTATINQ OKDEKS. 



turned against his own flying forces. The Texan commander was 
everywhere along the line of attack, encouraging and directing 
his men; often getting in front of his own gunners. 



ITEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 



395 



In fifteen minutes from the time of the first assault the Mexi- 
cans were flying in all directions. With terrible slaughter among 
the fugitives the flight continued, men and horses, dead and dy- 
ing, forming a bridge through the morass for the pursuers. Not 
many of the Texans were wounded; the commander-in-chief had 
his horse shot two or three times, and received a severe wound 
in the ankle. Still the chase continued, Houston still at the head 
of his men. The Texans, having no time to load, clubbed their 
guns J then they used their pistols, and their bowie-knives next 
came into requisition. Night fell, and the pursuit was given over 




HOUSTON AT 6AN JACI2ST0. 

for that day. The victors secured seven hundred and thirty prison- 
ers, and provided for the wounded of both armies as well as they 
could. Two hundred and eight of these were Mexicans, twenty- 
five were Texans; six hundred and thirty of Santa Anna's men, 
and eight of Houston's had been killed. The Texans had taken, 
besides, a large quantity of arms, great numbers of horses and 
mules, the camp equipage and the military chest of the enemy, 
the latter containing about twelve thousand dollars. The impor- 
tance of this acquisition will be apparent when it is stated that 



396 



TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 



there rr&s no such thing belonging to the Texan army. Houston 
had started out, on this campaign, with a private fund of two 
hundred dollars ; one-fourth of this sum had been given to a 
woman who had been widowed by the Alamo massacre, as he 
had not the heart to refuse her request for aid. 

The excitement of the battle had hitherto made him forget his 
wound, but now, in the comparative quiet, Houston found his 
foot intolerably painful; the boot was cut from the swollen limb, 
and everything done to alleviate the pain. 

Detachments were sent out, the next morning, to scour the 




THE FIXDIXa OF "THE MIGHTY A^'D GLORIOUS. 

country for the purpose of making prisoners. One of a party of 
five, while in the act of shooting a deer, discovered a Mexican 
fugitive. All rode after him, but he fell into a morass. They 
had some difficulty in getting him out. In answer to their ques- 
tions, he said he was a private soldier; they pointed to the fine 
studs in his shirt, when, bursting into tears, he admitted himself 
an aide-de-camp of the general. Not being able to w^alk, he was 
placed on one of the horses and taken to the Texan camp. 

As the party passed the jDrisoners, a murmur of surprise was 
heard, increasing until the equally surprised captors distinguish- 
ed the words, "El Presidente." It was, indeed, the Mexican 



TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 



397 



dictator who had caused the massacre of the Alamo and Goliad 
■^Santa Anna, himself, " The Mighty and Glorious." 

Being conducted into the presence of Gen. Houston, he imme- 
diately proj)osed to negotiate for his release. Gen. Houston told 
him that the civil government of Texas would take cognizance 
of that; that he had no authority to treat. Houston rebuked 
Santa Anna for his cruelties, and received the excuse that the 
rules of war had devoted Travis and his men to death, since they 
had refused to surrender, although unequal to defense; that if 




SANTA ANNA BEFORE HOUSTON. 



Fannin had ever capitulated, he was not aware of it; Urrea had 
deceived him, and informed him that they were vanquished; and 
he had orders from his government to execute all that were taken 
with arms in their hands. Eaising himself painfully, Houston 
said: 

" General Santa Anna, you are the government — a dictator 
has no superior." 

It was at this interview that Houston, excited by a remark de- 
rogatory to the bravery of the Texans, by one of Santa Anna's 
subordinates, took from his pocket an ear of dry corn, and, hold- 
ing it out, said, "■ Sir, do you ever expect to conquer men who 
fight for freedom, when their general can march four days with 
one ear of corn for his rations?" 



Sd8 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDeNCH. 

The prisoner was assigned quarters near Gen. Houston's tent, 
and was treated with great magnanimity. An armistice was 
agreed upon, Santa Anna sending orders to Gen. Filisola, his 
second in command, to retire to Victoria and Bexar, to set free 
all prisoners, and not to ravage the country. Diiferent opinions 
prevailed in the Texan cabinet as to what course should be pur- 
sued; a small minority favored the immediate execution of the 
monster, but the majority judged that such a course would enrage 
Mexico still more, and lose them the sympathy so active in their 
favor in the United States. It was finally decided to treat with 
him, and on the fourteenth of May, 1836, a public and a secret 
treaty were signed, by which Santa Anna acknowledged the in- 
dependence of Texas, and engaged to remove his troops from the 
state. 

Gen. Houston's wound had proved so troublesome that he was 
obliged to ask for leave of absence, and go to New Orleans for 
surgical aid ; leaving Texas May 5, he was absent j ust two months. 
Returning, he found the independence of Texas fully establish- 
ed, although the treaty had not yet been entirely fulfilled, Santa 
Anna being still a prisoner. His detention rendered Texas all 
the* safer, as the Mexicans found it impossible to raise another 
invading army without the presence of their dictator. 

A general election was ordered by the President to take place 
in September; for the highest office, the supreme executive, there 
were two candidates, Stephen F. Austin and Henry Smith. About 
two weeks before the election, an assembly of more than six 
hundred persons at Columbia nominated Houston. On his ar- 
rival in New Orleans he had been solicited by a number of Tex- 
ans there, to become a candidate for the presidency, but had 
positively refused. At this time, each of the two candidates re- 
presented a political party, the power of each party being about 
equal. Houston knew that he would be obliged to fill all appoint- 
ive offices with his political friends, and his administration would 
meet with severe criticism and stern opposition from the other 
party. Houston himself was free from the trammels which 
bound the others, and believing that he could eifect a consolid- 
ation of both, he accepted the nomination, and was elected by a 
large majority. The constitution adopted at this election gave 
him the appointment of his cabinet, and Gen. Austin was made 
Secretary of State, and Ex-Gov. Smith Secretary of the Treasury. 

Besides the questions already mentioned as submitted to the 



TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 399 

people in this election, there was another of considerable impor- 
tance, both now and later. Should Texas apply for admission 
into the Eepublic of the United States ? This was decided in the af- 
firmative by a nearly unanimous vote, and Austin immediately 
went to work to prepare instructions for the diplomatic agents 
that were to be sent to our capital. For three days he worked, 
and late into the night, in a room that, in spite of the extremely 
cold weather, was without fire. The exposure brought on a cold 
which terminated fatally on the twenty-seventh of December. 
Thus early in the history of the infant republic died "the father 
of Texas, the first pioneer of the wilderness." His untiring ser- 
vices were fitly styled invaluable by the order issued from the 
War Department. His mission to the United States was a deli- 
cate and difiicult one, but executed with fidelity and crowned 
with success. 

It is unnecessary to detail the events of this administration. 
A threatened invasion from Mexico was repelled; the United 
States acknowledged the independence of Texas, but refused to 
listen to her request for annexation ; the Indians were made to 
keep at a respectful distance ; economy of the strictest kind was 
practiced even to the disbanding of the army. The constitution 
made the first presidential term only two years in length, the 
incumbent being ineligible for re-election ; so that in 1838 he left 
the office, that for the next three years was to be filled by the 
late Vice-President, Gen. Lamar. When Houston was elected 
for the second time he found the public debt enormously increas- 
ed ; government securities worth but fifteen or twenty cents on 
the dollar; the Indians hostile ; the Mexicans threatening anoth- 
er invasion. The Congress, then in session, was busily con- 
sidering questions of retrenchment and reform, and to them the 
new President lent his most earnest endeavors. Various recom- 
mendations of his were acted upon, and a rigid economy prac- 
tised in all departments of the government. 

About this time, the question of annexation to the United 
States was revived. Mexico had not, for six years, made any 
serious attempt to re-conquer her revolted province, and the Tex- 
ans judged that this would be a point in their -favor. But the 
Mexicans heard of the movement, and to keep up their claim, 
sent a number of small marauding parties into Texas. In view 
of these inroads. President Houston recommended to Congress 
that the archives of the government be removed from Austin to 



400 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 

some more secure point. Thereupon ensued the "Archive "War," 
a bloodless combat, in which the pride of the city of Austin was 
laid low. 

The Mexican raids continued, and in March, 1842, San Antonio 
and Goliad were taken. Many prisoners were taken by the en- 
emy in the succeeding year, and were badly treated. The re- 
lease of one hundred and four in the year 1844 has been thought 
to be in accordance with the dying request of Santa Anna's wife. 

Early in the year 1843, it was expected that a large party of 
Mexican merchants, with valuable stocks of goods, would pass 
along that large strip of uninhabited country belonging to Tex- 
as. They were looked upon as legitimate prey, since the war 
had recommenced, and the War Department, instructed by Pres- 
ident Houston, authorized the organization of a party for its cap- 
ture. Col. Snively, the commander of the expedition, was in- 
structed to keep on Texas soil, make captures only in honorable 
warfare, and pay one-half of the spoils into the public treasury. 
This last was regarded as an unreasonable condition, and was 
rejected. The party of one hundred and eighty men set out about 
the middle of April, and, two months later, fell in with a party 
of Mexican soldiers sent to guard the train. Of these seventeen 
were killed and eighty taken prisoners. Elated with their suc- 
cess ( for they had taken a good supply of pro visions and horses ), 
the party separated, preferring to return by two different routes. 
The news that such an expedition was contemplated had reach- 
ed St. Louis, and two hundred U. S. dragoons had been sent out 
to protect the caravan. These discovered Snively's party, sur- 
rounded it, and under pretense that it was on the soil of the Un- 
ited States, compelled the men to surrender and give up their 
arms. It was afterwards proven that they were on Texan soil, 
and the United States paid for the guns that had been seized. 

The miserable failure of this expedition caused it to be after- 
ward disclaimed by the President as unauthorized, but this was 
not sufficient to prevent his being blamed severely for it at the 
time. Ifit had been successful, that would have been another 
thing entirely. But Houston was becoming unpopular, because 
of his attitude ^-egarding the question of the day — annexation. 
Desiring it as earnestly as any of his constituents, he dissembled 
his wishes, thinking an indifferent attitude on the part of Texas 
would sooner secure it ; this was not generally understood, and he 
was accused of thwarting the wishes of the people in that direction. 



TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 401 

A more honorable measure than the Snively expedition, was 
the assertion of the strength of the government during the dis- 
turbances which occurred in the eastern part of the country. Two 
factions, the Regulators and the Moderators, defying the law, 
engaged in a vendetta ; many men on both sides were killed and 
many unlawful acts committed j the militia was called out and the 
disturbance quelled, but it was several years before peace was 
established between the more bitter members of the two parties. 

But the securing of an armistice with Mexico was one of the 
greatest events, if not the greatest of Houston's second administra- 
tion. There was every reason to believe that this would result in a 
treaty between the two republics, by which the elder w^ould rec- 
ognize the independence of the younger. England and France 
united to insure the independence of Texas, on condition that 
she should not be annexed to the United States. The application 
to be admitted into the Union had been renewed, and rejected 
again. The influence of the two great European powers that had 
interested themselves, finally secured Mexico's recognition of 
Texas as a sovereign power. 

On the election of Mr. Polk to the presidency of the United 
States, the question which had been twice brought before them, 
and twice been disapproved, was reconsidered again, and the Con- 
gress of the United States invited the Eepublic of Texas to enter 
the Union. A convention was called for the consideration of this 
offer, and by a vote of fifty-five to one, it was accepted. October 
10th, the people ratified the action of the convention, and De- 
cember 2d, President Polk signed the bill extending the laws of 
the United States over Texas. February 19, 1846, the republic 
was finally merged in the state. 

At the first session of the State Legislature, Grcn. Houston was 
elected U. S. Senator, and was re-elected in 1847 and 1851. This 
prevented his taking part in the war between Mexico and the 
United States, which followed the annexation of Texas. An old 
Jackson Democrat, he was early suspected of a leaning towards 
the North, and this was confirmed by his vote upon the question 
of extending the Missouri Compromise line across the continent. 
His leaving the Democratic for the Ivnow-Xothing part}', about 
1854, made him so unpopular, that he saw he would not be re- 
elected in 1857; so he announced himself as an independent can- 
didate for governor. For the first and last time in his life, he was 
beaten in a popular election. Two years later, he was an inde- 



402 TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 

pendent Democratic candidate for the same office, and was elect- 
ed by a handsome majority. In a circular, addressed to his con- 
stituents before the election, he said: "I would lay down my 
life to defend any one of the states from aggression which en- 
dangered its peace, or threatened its institutions. I could do no 
more for the Union. I could wish to do more ; for the destruc- 
tion of the Union would be the ruin of all the states." 

The Legislature convened in extra session January 21, 1861, 
and on the first of the succeeding month, the convention called 
for the purpose of considering the question of secession, passed 
an ordinance taking Texas out of the Union. It was too late to 
prevent secession, but Houston warmly advocated the plan of 
Texas resuming her former position as an independent republic, 
and not attaching herself to the Confederacy. Failing in this, he 
refused to take the oath to support the new government, and was 
promptly displaced. 

He made no effort to assert his authority as governor, knowing 
that it could result in no good to Texas. From his retirement, 
he protested against the proclaiming of martial law as anti-re- 
publican, and watched, " more in sorrow than in anger," the war 
measures adopted by both armies. Secession he thought would 
be successful, and he feared that both northern and southern gov- 
ernments would lose the spirit of democracy. "The welfare 
and glory of Texas will be the uppermost thought, while the 
spark of life lingers in this breast :" so he said in a public 
speech in the city of Houston, Mar. 18, 1863, and, while few be- 
lieved in the principles that had led him to resign his office, no 
one doubted his sincerity. 

This was his last appearance before a public audience. A lit- 
tle more than four months afterward (July 26, 1863), the spark 
was extinguished forever — Houston thought no more of the wel- 
fare and glory of Texas. Even in the whirl and turmoil of civil 
war, the people turned aside for a moment to show respect for 
the memory of the man whom they had delighted to honor. The 
hero of San Jacinto, the only man who was twice president of 
Texas, he had seen the statesmen and patriots of his youth gath- 
ered one by one to their fathers ; and the only monument erect- 
ed to his memory is that imperishable one in human hearts. 

Has the life of Houston, as here told, been a history of Texas, 
rather than a biography of the man ? Let it be so, to fitly rep- 
resent the truth. The history of the general cannot be told un- 



TEXAS WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 403 

less his battles are recorded; of the statesman, unless the victor- 
ies of peace be recounted ; of the patriot, unless the land that 
he loved be prominent on the stage. His was the strong and 
steady hand that held the helm; the sail filled, the oars were 
plied, but the steersman directed the course. 

One word of explanation remains to be added, and that in re- 
gard to his name. His signature, on all the state papers and 
other documents existing, stands " Sam Houston." There is never 
any use made of the full name of which this is probably the ab- 
breviation. Like all heroes of the people, his name is preserved 
as he wrote it. 



CHAPTER XVI. 



KIT CAESON. 

SHOET of stature, slender of limb, a fair, clean shaven face 
with a mild and quiet expression — such was the personal 
a^jpearance of a man whose name is known far and wide as that 
of as skillful a hunter, as intrepid an Indian fighter, as ever 
was celebrated in our legends of the border; such was Kit 
Carson. 

Authorities differ as to both time and place, but those whom 
we may assume to have gathered their information from his own 
lips, say that Christoj^her Carson was born in Kentucky in 1809. 
The removal of his j^arents, in the succeeding year, to the neigh 
borhood of Boonslick (Boonsboro), Howard County, Missouri, 
had led some to suppose that this was his birthplace, while still 
others make him a native of Illinois. His father was a skillful 
hunter and trapper, and the boy was early trained to take part 
in the sport. By the time he had reached the age of fifteen he 
was known as a good shot in the country where all could shoot 
well, and had had more than one perilous adventure with the 
wolves that infested the neighborhood. Of these trials of his 
courage no particulars have come down to us ; but the bare fact 
that there were such stories told of him, shows that the exploits 
of his manhood were foreshadowed by those of his youth. 

In 1824, his father apprenticed him to a saddler, but the con- 
fined life was extremely distasteful to him, and after enduring it 
for two j^ears he joined a party of traders who were going to 
Santa Fe. This expedition w\as by no means without danger, for 
the roiite was infested with hostile Indians, who were always 
ready to commit depredations ujjon the caravans. The armed par- 
ty, however, reached the proposed j^oint, the capital of a Mexican 
province, without encountering any such interruption. The only 
accident of the journey was a wound in the arm of a man whose 
gun accidentally went off as he was taking it from the wagon. The 



KIT CARSON. 



405 



injured member grew rapidly worse, and amputation being nec- 
essary, three of their number, Carson and two others, were ap- 
pointed to perform the operation ; the instruments were a razor 
and an old saw, while a bolt from one of the wagons was heated 




and used to cauterize the wound. The patient recovered, much 
to the surprise and joy of the surgeons. Carson spent some time 
in Taos, learning the Spanish language. Eeturning with anoth- 
er party of traders to Missouri, in the spring of 1827, he cnga- 



406 KIT CARSON. 

ged himself as teamster to a company of merchants bound for El 
Paso. Here he remained. This was a comjDlete change from his 
old Missouri home; the adobe huts, built to surround a square 
court, in the old Moorish fashion, each separate house forming a 
fort that could be defended by its master ; the vineyards, whence 
came the light wine and brandy for which the place was well- 
known ; the population, half Indian, half Sj^anish : all these had 
been known to him in Taos, and he only renewed his familiarity 
with them in El Paso. 

The winter of 1827-8 was j)assed in Taos, in the employ of Mr. 
Ewing Young; thence, in the spring, he went as interpreter with 
an expedition commanded by Col. Tramell, bound for Chihua- 
hua. While this position was held in higher estimation than any 
he had yet occupied, he did not find its safe monotony pleasant, 
and left it to engage in the more humble M^ork of a teamster, re- 
turning with his new employer to Taos. Here he found an op- 
portunity to engage in the pursuit for which he was so eminent- 
ly well qualified, and in which he delighted — hunting and trap- 
ping. A party of trappers, sent out by his old emploj^er, Mr. 
Young, came in with but few peltries, having been driven away 
from the chosen grounds by the Indians, and a larger company 
was organized for the double purpose of chastising the savages 
and trapping beavers. The commander of such an expedition 
of course desired to take with him only experienced men, as raw 
recruits were apt to create confusion. It was then a high com- 
pliment to Kit's courage and ability that he, a boy of nineteen, 
should be allowed to join them in this party. 

They failed to find the savages who had committed the offense, 
following a trail which afterwards proved to be that of another 
band of marauders. Acting, probably, upon the principle that 
if these Indians had not deserved punishment already, they might 
do so in the future, a sharp skirmish ensued upon their meeting, 
and fifteen warriors were killed. Proceeding along the Salt 
river, a tributary of the Gila, they successfully prosecuted the 
work for some time, but finally decided to go to the Sacramento 
valley. Their route lay through a desert, where they suffered 
dreadfully for want of water and food ; with this, however, they 
were amply supplied by a party of Mohave Indians, whom they 
met in the canon of the Colorado. The Mission of San Gabriel 
extended its hospitality to them. We can hardly realize what 
they endured, or of how much value to the young trapper was 



KIT CARSON. 



407 



such a journey. Accustomed, even in the most sparsely settled 
districts, to roads more or less plainly marked, it is hard for us 
to appreciate the situation of those who first marked out these 
roads. The difficulties of the route were still farther enhanced 
by the presence of the Indians, against whom they must he al- 
ways on their guard. This journey is far inferior in interest to 
subsequent adventures, if each be considered singly; but taken 
as an indication of what he could do, and as training for his future 
life in that thinly settled country, it is of very great imj^ortance. 
The party spent some time in trapping upon the Sacramento 
river, the richness of the soil about them suj)plying them with 
abundance of food. The country around them was filled with 
vast hordes of the Klamath or Digger Indians, not, however, re- 
duced to the miser- 
able wretches that 
they are to-day. 
Then, they were the 
lords of the land, 
subsisting upon the 
plentiful g i f t s of 
mother earth, strong 
and brave. The vices 
of the white man, 
which his superior 
strength defies, are 
the destruction of 
that lower race, and 
like those of so many 
other tribes, the mod- 
'ern Digger docs not 
fitly represent his 
fathers ; though even 
then this tribe was inferior to the Apaches and Comanches. The 
curious in such matters may refer this to the difference in their 
food ; would it not be better to conclude that the higher courage 
attacked the larger game, while the Klamaths were content to 
war upon and live upon grasshoppers ? For so did the Diggers 
anticipate the experiments of our later entomologists. 

Long before the days of which we write, the Spaniards had 
established missionary stations along the coast of California, 
about thirty or forty miles apart, for the purpose of Christianiz- 




CIIRISTOPHEB CARSON. 



408 



KIT CARSON. 



ing the Indians. Each little community was under the govern- 
ment of a prefect, always a prie^, whose temporal authority was 
equalled only by his spiritual. He was appointed by the Crown 
of Spain, and that government contributed a considerable sum 
for the maintainance of these missions. Attached to each of 
these stations was a bandof Indians, for whose labors the worthy 
fathers conceived that the religious instruction given them made 
a full return. When, therefore, the Indians became restive under 
their burden of forced labor, and forty of them deserted, the 
missionaries lost little time in appealing to Capt. Young and his 
trappers, for assistance in compelling the neighboring tribes not 




¥0 

INDIAN CAPTURING HORSES. 

to harbor the fugitives. Carson, at the head of a party of eleven, 
set out towards an Indian town near San G-abriel, and an attack 
upon it resulted in the destruction of one third of the inhabitants, 
and the complete submission of the others. Peace having been 
thus restored, Capt. Young sold a number of furs to a trader, 
who was then at San Gabriel, and received in payment a large 
drove of horses. But the Indians, apparently conquered, were 
only awaiting an opportunity to avenge themselves upon the 
trappers, and one night stole sixty of these horses while the sen- 
tinel slept. Carson, with a party of twelve, was sent in pursuit 
of the thieves. It was not difficult to follow the trail of so large 
a drove, but so rapidly did the Indians retreat with their booty, 



KIT CARSON. . 409 

that the white men traveled about a hundred miles before com- 
ing up with them. Carson arrived near the Indian camp, placed 
his men carefully and silently, and at a given signal they rushed 
upon the warriors as they sat eating. The savages, having no 
fear of pursuit, were feasting on the flesh of some of the stolen 
horses. The attack of the white men came upon them like a 
thunderbolt. Eight were killed, and the remainder scattered in 
all directions, leaving the victors to return with the horses not 
consumed, and with three Indian children that were left in the 
camp. 

Early in the fall of 1829, Caj)t. Young decided to go southward 
to the valley of the Colorado. Stopping at Los Angelos, many of 
the trappers became involved in a drunken fray with the citizens, 
and he left sooner than he had intended. On the Colorado they 
encamped, and were very successful in adding to their stock of 
furs. On one occasion they would have lost all if it had not been 
for the courage and address of Carson. Left in the camp with 
only a few men, he was one day confronted by a large party of 
Indians, numbering two or three hundred. These did not mani- 
fest any enmity to the trappers, and they were apparently un- 
armed ; but Carson discovered that each one had formidable weap- 
ons concealed under his upper garment. He ordered them to leave 
the camp, but the Indians, seeing how far superior were their own 
numbers, paid no attention to the command, acting as if they did 
not comprehend the language. Carson quietly drew up his men, 
armed with their rifles. The old chief had betrayed a knowledge 
of Spanish, and to him Carson said in that language : 

"You see that there are Tery few of us, but we are all well- 
armed, and determined to sell our lives dearly. Go." 

Awed by the tone of his voice and the glance of his eye, as much 
as by his words, the Indians, who never voluntarily face open 
danger, sullenly withdrew. Their plan had most probably been 
to produce a stampede of the horses, and thus secure them, after 
they had robbed the camp of the valuable furs in it. Although 
the trappers were not again disturbed by the Indians, this was 
not the only meeting ; for, a little later, they turned aggressors, 
and robbed the Indians of a large drove of cattle and of several 
good horses. 

Returning to Santa Ee, the furs were disposed of for such a sum 
that each man's share seemed to him a fortune, and each one im- 
mediately proceeded to get rid of it as soon as possible. Carson 



410 



KIT CARSON. 



was not behind his companions in their indulgence in the dissipa- 
tions of a Mexican town. Having sown the wind by killing his 
opponent in a street brawl, the resulting whirlwind blew him far 
back towards his old home in Missouri. Meeting with a party of 
trappers on their way to Utah, he joined them, remaining with 
them some time. They suffered, occasionally, from the depreda- 




A KAREOW ESCAPE. 



tions of the Crows and the Blackfeet, but so slightly that Fitz- 
patrick, who was in command, would not permit Carson to go in 
pursuit of them. Reinforced by another party, however, a theft 
of sixty horses while they were in their winter camp he was 
permitted to avenge. Selecting twelve volunteers, he took 
Tip the trail, and coming upon the Indians in one of their strong- 



KIT CARSON. 



411 



holds, cut loose the horses, attacked their rude fort, killed five 
warriors, and made good their retreat with the animals that they 
had recovered. This was the most considerable fight during the 
winter. It was during this winter that Carson had a very narrow 
escape. Out looking for "beaver sign," with a few men, he 
came suddenly upon a party of sixty well-armed and mounted 
warriors. Eesistance was useless, and the trappers beat a hasty 
retreat, while the bullets whistled alarmingly thick about them. 
He was accustomed to say, long afterwards, that this was one of 
the narrowest escapes that he had ever had. 

In the spring of 1832, the party being upon a stream where he 
was convinced there was no beaver, Carson, with two others, left 
them and proceeded to another stream. Here, high up in the 
mountains, and hence not disturbed by the Indians, they pursued 
their work successfully for the whole season. Taking the furs 
to Taos, they disposed of them for a good price, and Carson, 
taught by his past experience, resisted all temptations to squan- 
der his money. This was a hard task for one so fond of the so- 
ciety of his companions. 

During his stay at Taos, he was invited by Capt. Lee to join an 
expedition that he was organizing, and in October of the same 
year set out with about twenty traders and trappers, going north- 
ward and entering winter quarters on a branch of the Green river. 
While in the camp, a neighboring settler was robbed of six valu- 
able horses by an Indian whom he had had in his employ, and in 
whom he had hitherto reposed great confidence. To Carson he 
applied, asking him to pursue the Indian and retake the horses. 
Having obtained permission of his employer, Kit wentto a neigh- 
boring Utah village, where he was well-known, and procured the 
assistance of a brave and hardy young warrior, whom he knew to 
be reliable. So slight were the indications of the trail that they 
could only follow with extreme difficulty and slowness at first; 
but once convinced of its direction, they proceeded more swiftly. 
They had traveled about one hundred miles when the Indian's 
horse fell sick; in vain did Carson urge him to continue the 
pursuit on foot ; the warrior bent his steps homeward, and Kit, 
putting spurs to his horse, followed the trail for thirty miles 
farther. The fugitive spied him at the same moment that Kit 
saw the object of his search, and with true savage caution turn- 
ed to seek a shelter from which he might fire at his assailant. 
G-alloping towards him, Carson raised his rifle, took aim and fired 



412 



KIT CARSON. 



just as the Indian reached what he thought would be safety. With 
one bound the savage fell beside his horse, and the report of his 
own gun was his only requiem. 




THE PURSUIT OF THE HORSE THIEF. 

Soon after his return with the horses, Carson joined a party 
jf three others, with whom he trapped all summer on the Lara- 
mie, with unusually good results. While hunting on foot for 
game for this camp he met with the most perilous of his adven- 
tures. He had just shot an elk, ar'd was preparing to take pos- 
session of his game, when two grizzly bears rushed upon it. He 



KIT CARSON. 



413 



had not yet reloaded, and besides, his rifle could defend him on- 
ly against one; there was nothing to be done but to make for 
the nearest tree. The bears were close behind him when he 
reached a sapling, up which he climbed as fast as he could. Fierce 
with hunger, his pursuers would put their huge paws around the 



fri^;. 




A FIGHT WITH GRIZZLIES. 

slender trunk, and endeavor to reach him. Cutting a branch frr • 
the tree, he would rap sharply each black nose that came nc . 
enough, and bruin would go away growling, only to return when 
the pain ceased. Nearly the whole night was passed in this way, 



414 KIT CARSON. 

but towards morning the bears departed. Waiting until they 
were at a safe distance, Carson scrambled down from his perilous 
perch, and made his way to the camp. The elk he had killed 
had been devoured by the wolves, but he was only too glad to 
have escaped with his life ; and his safety consoled his compan- 
ions for supping and breakfasting on beaver. 

For the fall hunt, Carson joined a company of fifty, locating in 
the country of the Blackfeot, around the head waters of the 
Missouri ; but the Indians were so numerous and hostile that they 
removed to the Big Snake Hiver. During the winter, the Black- 
feet stole in one night eighteen of their horses, for the recovery of 
which Carson was sent with eleven men. Eiding fifty miles 
through the snow, they came to where the Indians had encamped. 
The savages, wearing snow-shoes, had the advantage, and the pai'- 
ley which they demanded was readily granted. The Indians said 
that they thought the horses belonged to the Snake tribe; that 
they did not intend to steal from the white men. In reply, 
Carson asked them why they did not lay down their arms and 
smoke. To this question they had no answer, but both parties 
laid aside their weapons and prepared for the snioke. The war- 
riors made long-winded, non-committal speeches ; the whites 
refused to hear anything of conciliation from them until the 
horses were restored. Thereupon the Indians brought out five 
of the poorest horses. The whites started for their rifles, and 
the fight commenced. 

Carson and a companion named Markland got hold of their 
rifles first, and were in the lead. Selecting for their mark two 
Indians near to each other, both took aim, and were about to fire, 
when Carson saw that Markland's antagonist was aiming with 
deadly precision at his friend, who had not noticed him. Chang- 
ing his aim, he sent his ball through the heart of the Indian, and 
tried to dodge the shot of his own adversary. He was a moment 
too late, and the ball struck the side of his neck, passing through 
his shoulder and shattering the bone. The fight continued until 
night, but Carson was, of course, only a spectator. His wound 
bled profusely, and gave him considerable pain, but not a word 
of complaint escaped his lips. Kightfall ended the fight in favor 
of the whites, but their situation was extremely precarious. Not 
knowing how soon the Indians might return with reinforcements, 
they dared not light a fire, lest it should betray their where- 
abouts. In the darkness and cold they held a hurried council, 



KIT CARSON. 



415 




416 KIT CARSON 

and decided to return to the camp. Loss of blood had rendered 
their leader so weak that he was unable to sit on his horse; so, 
contriving a rude litter, they carried him. Three others were 
wounded, but so slightly that they were able to ride back. 
Arrived at the camp, a party of thirty was despatched to pursue 
the Indians ; but it returned in a few days, having failed to over- 
take the marauders. 

Carson had fully recovered from his wound before the follow- 
ing summer, when, for the second time, he attended the grand 
rendezvous of traj^pers. This meeting was held annually in the 
midst of the great western wilderness, and attended by traders, 
trappers and hunters who were anxious to exchange the products 
of their labor for goods and money. Parties came in about the 
time agreed uj)on, and encamped around the given spot. Those 
who came earliest waited until others had arrived, before they 
began to trade, thus fulfilling the unwritten law of honor which 
prevailed among them. It was a motley crowd that was there 
assembled, the traders dilating upon the difficulty and danger of 
transporting their goods from St. Louis, a thousand miles away. 
Indians and white men met there on neutral ground, and the 
hardy hunter of the States consorted with the no less hardy 
French Canadians. Nominally a peaceful meeting, it was no 
small task to keep from open fights, and it sometimes severely 
tasked those better disposed to restrain their comrades. Among 
the more orderly was Carson, who did his best to bury the hatch- 
et, even though a large party of Blackfeet, including the Indians 
who had stolen the horses, was present, protected by a white flag. 
His influence over the Indians, however, was considerable ; they 
respected his courage too highly for him to be unpopular among 
them. 

There was a greater danger to be encountered among the white 
men. A French Canadian, John Shuman, was notorious as a 
bully and a braggart. So often had his acquaintances been intim- 
idated by him, that none of them dared resent the insults which he 
took pleasure in heaping upon them. Encouraged by their sub- 
mission, and greatly under the influence of liquor, he began to 
try the same treatment with the Americans. Eiding about the 
encampment, he denounced them as lily-livered cowards, weaker 
than women, fit for no manly sport or occupation, and deserving 
liberal applications of hickory, outwardly. Human nature can- 
not stand everything ; Carson threw aside his role of jDcace-mak- 



KIT CARSON. 



417 



er, and stepping out from the crowd, said, in his softest and qui- 
etest tones : 

*'I am an American, and one of the least of them. If you 
want to fight any of us, you can begin with me." 




Carson's dukl with the brXggart. 

The gigantic Shuman looked contemptuously down from his 
seat in the saddle upon the slender, smooth-fjiccd young man who 
stood before him ; then, putting spurs to his horse, and riding off 
to a little distance, then back again, raised his rifle and took aim. 
Kit had sprung upon a horse and was ready with his pistol. Both 



418 KIT CARSON. 

fired at the same instant, Shuman's hall grazing Carson's cheek 
and cutting off a lock of his hair. Kit had not aimed at a vital 
part, wishing to teach the hully a lesson, not to kill him ; his ball 
entered Schuman's hand, came out at the wrist, and passed 
through his arm above the elbow. He begged abjectly for his 
life, and never insulted Americans again. 

Arrangements were made at the rendezvous for the fall hunt, 
and Carsou started thence with a party to the Yellowstone. 
Meeting with little success, they removed two or three times and 
finally determined upon a wandering hunt. Through the glit- 
tering white expanse of the so-called mud-lakes, the vast prairies 
covered with the worthless artemisia and heavy sand, the weary 
horses plodded forty or fifty miles without food or water. Winter 
set in with the severity common in this latitude, at this elevation, 
and they were on the brink of despair. It had been resolved to 
kill one of the horses and drink his blood, when they came in 
sight of a party of Snake Indians. From these they bought a 
fat pony, and the rank flesh was the sweetest they had ever tasted, 
seasoned, as it was, by hunger, the best of sauces. Invigorated 
by this food, they proceeded on foot to Fort Hall, thus allowing 
their worn-out horses as much rest as they could give them. Ar- 
rived at the fort, and having recruited their strength, they start- 
ed out on a buffalo hunt, and brought in as much meat as their 
horses could carry j but on the third morning after their return, 
the Indians drove off all their horses from the corral in which 
the animals were confined; the sentinel mistaking the savages 
for the friendly red men employed about the fort. Pursuit was 
out of the question, as the same trick had been played a short time 
ago on the people of the fort, and they could only await the ar- 
rival of a detachment of their party which they expected from 
Walla Walla. 

The men expected, came in about four weeks, with a plentiful 
supply of horses; with fresh steeds, and men well fed and rested, 
they started towards Green river, where, at a rendezvous, a party 
of a hundred was organized to trap upon the Yellowstone and 
the head waters of the Missouri. This was the country of the 
Blaekfeet, and as they expected to meet these Indians, it was ar- 
ranged that while fifty were trapping and hunting for food, the 
others should guard the camp, and cook. Their precautions were 
useless, for the small pox had raged so fiercely in this hostile 
tribe that their numbers were much diminished, and the survivors 



KIT CARSON. 



419 



too depressed in spirit to attack the whites. A camp of the 
friendly Crows, near by the place where they wintered, gave them 
companionship and assistance. 




I>EFENDLNU A 1 ALLEN COMRADE. 



Hardly had they begun trapping again when they learned that 
the Blackfeet had recovered from the effects of the pestilence, 
which had been less severe than had been represented. Learn- 



420 KIT CARSON. 

ing that they were encamped not far from the trapping ground, 
the whites determined to take the initiative. Carson and five 
companions went forward to reconnoiter. Eeturning, a party of 
fortj^-three was organized, Carson unanimously chosen as leader, 
and the others left to move on with the baggage. It was not long 
before the Indians were overtaken, and ten were killed at the 
first fire. Carson and his men were in high spirits, and followed 
up the attack for three hours, meeting with but little resistance. 
Their ammunition began to run low, and the firing was less 
brisk, when the Indians, suspecting this to be the state of affairs, 
turned and charged upon them, uttering their terrible war-cry. 
Enabled to use their small-arms, Carson's men drove back the 
savages with considerable slaughter, but rallying yet again, they 
charged so fiercely that the trappers were forced to retreat. In 
cited by the brave generosity of Carson, who placed himself be- 
fore a companion disabled by his horse falling upon him, and 
shot the foremost of the six warriors who rushed to get the fallen 
trapper's scalp, his men rallied around him, and fired again upon 
the Indians. Again the trappers retreated a short distance, and 
made a stand ; both parties seemed to be exhausted, each appar- 
ently waiting for the other to renew the attack. While the}' thus 
remained passive, the reserve force of the white men came up, 
and being thus freshly supplied with ammunition, they renewed 
the attack with the old vigor. The desperate fight which ensued 
ended in the defeat of the Indians. The Blackfeet lost many 
men in this encounter, and did not again venture near the trap- 
pers. 

After leaving the summer rendezvous of trappers, and engag- 
ing in several profitable trades, Carson settled himself for the 
winter to hunt for the garrison at a fort on the Colorado, and ifi 
the spring engaged in the old business with only a single com- 
panion. This, he thought, would enable him to work more qui- 
etly; as, personally, he was popular with the Indians, especially 
with the Utahs, among whom he was going; but all the tribes 
resented the presence of any considerable body of white men in 
their territories. It was while on this expedition that he had a 
hand-to-hand encounter with a large and fierce mountain lion, 
being armed only with a hunting knife ; the long fangs of the 
savage creature tore his flesh dreadfully, and faint with loss of 
blood, he was on the point of yielding to it, when the love of 
life, strong even when we are in despair, incited him to one more 



KIT CARSON. 



421 



eifort, and the keen edge of his knife nearly severed the head 
from the body. 

Encamping with a large party on the old trapping ground on 
the Yellowstone, about midwinter they discovered that a large 




INDIAN WAK 1>A^CK. 

detachment of the Blackfeet was alarmingly near. Forty men, 
headed by Carson, were sent to sustain their attack. Both sides 
fought bravely until darkness put an end to the contest, and dur- 
ing the night the Indians retired, taking their dead with them. 
The whites knew that this was but a small portion of that pow- 



422 KIT CARSON. 

erful tribe, which numbered about thirty thousand, and that 
they would probably be attacked very soon by a larger force. 
Carson directed that a breastwork be thrown up. Hardly had 
this been completed, when the Indians began to assemble around 
the impromj)tu fort. In three days about a thousand warriors 
were gathered around the fort. The war-dance took place in sight 
and hearing of the trappers, and at the first ajjpearance of day- 
light the Indians advanced ^ only to retire, however, when they 
saw the strength of their position. They had recognized, in the 
preparations for defense, the hand of Kit Carson, and they dar- 
ed not again contend against the " Monarch of the Prairies." 

Several seasons were passed in trapping, but no extraordinary 
adventures characterized them. The price of furs decreased so 
much that it was no longer a profitable business; and after eight 
years spent in it, Carson, now twenty-five, decided to engage 
himself as hunter to Fort Bent. It is much to be regretted that, 
while he knew thoroughly "the lay of the land," and all the 
minor jDoints of use to him in guiding a hunting expedition, his 
lack of education prevented his recording this knowledge in such 
a way as to confer a lasting benefit upon others. 

At Bent's Fort he found his position extremely pleasant. Not 
only did he like the work in which he was engaged, but he form- 
ed a sincere and lasting friendship with his employers, Messrs. 
Bent and St. Yrain. Here he found no difiiculty in feeding the 
forty men in the fort, killing thousands of elk, deer and antelope, 
as well as smaller game ; while a bufi'alo hunt aff'orded him the 
keenest pleasure. His accurate knowledge served him well in this 
pursuit, as did also the respect and esteem of the Indians for him. 
It was while he was acting as hunter to Bent's fort that some of 
these well-disposed Indians, having suffered considerably from 
the incursions of the powerful Sioux, sent to him for assistance. 
Such had been his success in hunting that he accepted this invi- 
tation, and accompanied the Indians to their camp. Here he 
found, besides the painted Comanches, to which tribe the mes- 
sengers had belonged, a considerable band of Arapahoes. In the 
council which followed, they told him that the Sioux had a thou- 
sand warriors and many rifles ; but expressed the utmost confi- 
dence in the Monarch of the Prairies' power to defeat these 
dreaded enemies. Carson listened to the representations of the 
tribes that had sought his aid, and urged upon them the superior 
advantages of a peaceful settlement of the difficulty. So great 



KIT CARSON. • 423 

was his influence over them that they consented to send him as 
mediator, and he succeeded in persuading the Sioux to return to 
their own hunting grounds at the end of the season. 

It was while he was acting as hunter to Bent's Fort that he 
married an Indian wife, by whom he had a daugliter still living. 
In less than a year after her marriage, the mother fell a victim 
to her devotion to her husband. Learning, when her little daugh- 
ter was but a week old, that her husband was lying ill a hun- 
dred miles away, she mounted a horse and rode to where he was. 
A fever, thus contracted, put an end to her life. When this 
daughter was about five years old, Carson brought her to St. 
Louis, to put her under such care as would be better calculated 
for her improvement than the rude teachings of her mother's 
people, or the little training she could receive from her father's 
rough comjDanions. Hither his fame had preceded him, and he 
was amazed to find himself a lion. But pleasant as such recog- 
nition might be, it could not compensate him for the life that he 
loved ; and he longed to return to his old hunting-ground. 

His journey to St. Louis proved to be a turning-point in his 
life, for it was here that he fell in with Lieut. John C. Fremont, 
then under orders from the United States government to explore 
and report upon the country lying on the line of the Kansas and 
Great Platte Bivers, between the western boundary of Missouri 
and South Pass. Bigelow, in his life of this gallant officer, pub- 
lished during the presidential campaign of 1856, makes the state- 
ment that the meeting between Fremont and Carson was purely 
accidental j but most of Carson's biographers a-epresent that Fre- 
mont was familiar with the name and fame of the daring plains- 
man. This latter seems much the more i^robable ; it is hardly to 
be believed that the active young officer, from whose brain had 
emanated the idea of this expedition, should never have heard of 
the most famous of the hunters — the " Thief-Taker," as the whites 
had named him; the "Monarch of the Prairies," as the Indians 
called him. 

Carson was engaged as guide, and proved an invaluable acqui- 
sition even to a party composed, as this was in great measure, 
of voyageurs familiar with prairie life by reason of their services 
to the fur companies. Twenty-one men, principally Creoles and 
Canadians, composed the party at first; to it being added Mr. 
Preuss, as assistant topographer, a hunter, and the guide. In 
May, 1842, they left St. Louis, proceeding by boat to Chouteau's 



424 • KIT CARSON. 

Landing, near the mouth of the Kansas, whence, after a few days' 
delay, they started on the overland journey. For a distance of 
nearly a hundred miles the road was excellent; 

" The prairie stretched as smooth as a floor, 
As far as the eye could see," 

and the path was so well-defined that they experienced no diffi- 
culty in pursuing it. Arrived at the ford of the Kansas, they met 
with their first delay since leaving Chouteau's Landing. The 
horses were driven in and reached the opposite bank in safety, 
and although the oxen occasioned some anxiety by swimming 
down the river, they were recovered the next morning. An in- 
dia-rubber boat, twenty feet long and five feet wide, was launch- 
ed, and on it were placed the body and wheels of a cart, the 
load belonging to it, and three men with paddles. Such was the 
velocity of the current, joined to the unwieldy nature of the 
freight, that the boat could only be successfully steered to the 
opposite side by means of a line held in the teeth of one of the 
best swimmers, who assisted in drawing the vessel over. Six 
passages had been made in this way, the swimmer being Basil 
Lajeunesse ; night was rapidly ajjproaching, and it was necessary 
that the work of transportation should be completed. Disre- 
garding the advice of Carson, Lajeunesse started out the last 
time with a double load; the boat capsized, and it was only with 
considerable trouble that the cargo was recovered. Carson and 
the hunter, Maxwell, were in the water the greater part of the 
next day searching for the lost articles, and were so affected by 
the exposure that the party had to remain encamped there an- 
other day. Two days more were passed at a camp seven miles 
further up the river. Provisions were dried and repacked, cart 
covers painted, and marksmanship perfected. 

Leaving this camp, they marched onward through a country, 
where for several days their only difficulty was the scarcity of 
water. Reaching the country occupied by the Pawnees, they 
found it would be necessary to keep guard at night, since these 
thieving hordes openly attacked the weaker parties, and endeav- 
ored to carry off the horses of even the stronger. It may be 
readily believed that any report of the Indians being in the 
neighborhood was carefully investigated. Such an alarm was 
given by a man who had fallen some distance in the rear, and 
who came spurring up, shouting "Indians, Indians!" Being 
questioned, he said that he had been near enough to see and count 



KIT CARSON. 



425 




A PAWNEE CHIEF IN PULL COSTUME. 



426 KIT CARSON. 

a war-party of Indians following them, stating the number as 
twenty-seven. A halt was called, arms examined, and while they 
were preparing for the attack which they expected, Carson gal- 
loped off alone in the direction that the Indians were said to be 
, advancing. Eeturning, he said that the twenty-seven Pawnees 
had changed to six elk, that had scampered off when they had 
passed. A more serious alarm resulted from their first buffalo 
hunt, some days later, in Carson's being thrown from his horse 
by its fall among the herd. This, although really a serious ac- 
cident, did not not prevent his engaging in the hunt the next 
day. A threatened attack of the Sioux produced great confu- 
sion in the camp, as they were not accustomed to the perils of 
the life upon the plains. Carson, knowing that these men were 
not to be depended upon in an encounter with the savages, as 
were those experienced trappers who had been his companions 
in the previous years, made his will, and the knowledge of this 
increased the fears of the men ; but this, like the other dangers 
they had encountered, passed off without any serious result. The 
grasshopper, that scourge of the "West, whose ravages have of 
late years been more familiar than ever to us, had destroyed 
nearly all the vegetation in the country through which they were 
shortly to pass, and famine had so weakened the Indians that 
they were unable to attack Fremont's party. 

Carson's position in this expedition was honorable, as testify- 
ing to his reputation as a guide and hunter; but it has by no 
means been accorded the consideration which it deserved. The 
party, as before stated, consisted almost entirely of French voy- 
ageurs, who had spent their lives in hunting in the less dangerous 
regions farther east; there was, besides, a hunter of experience in 
the country through which they were passing ; all were alike in 
their jealousy of Kit Carson, and their anxiety to supplant him 
wherever possible in the favor of the commander. So well did 
the Creoles succeed in causing his claims to be overlooked, that 
he was not included in the party which, on the fifteenth of Aug- 
ust, ascended the highest peak of the Eocky Mountains and 
planted the American flag on the summit of the height hitherto 
untrodden by the foot of man. 

The return trip was accomplished without accident, the party 
arriving in St. Louis Oct. 17th, less than five months from the date 
of departure, Carson leaving them at Fort Laramie. From this 
point he proceeded to New Mexico, where he settled near his old 



KIT CARSON. 



427 



headquarters, Taos; married a Spanish lady, and went to farm- 
ing; being occasionally employed as a hunter by his old friends, 
Messrs. Bent and St. Vrain, of Bent's Fort. In June, 1843, he 
heard that Capt. Fremont had organized a second expedition, 
starting from Kansas City May 29th, and resolved to see his old 




CAK.SUX'.S HOUSE AT TAOS. 

commander. His was too noble a heart to think that he had 
been slighted before: if he had noticed the enmity of his compan- 
ions at all, he had by this time forgotten it. Setting out from 
Taos, hejourneyed seventy miles before he fell in with the party ; 
Fremont, conscious of the value of his services, immediately ex- 



428 KIT CARSON. 

tended him a cordial invitation to join, which was accepted with- 
out the least hesitation. On leaving Taos, Carson had expected 
only to meet Fremont, and immediately return, but the allure- 
ments of the journey were such as he could not resist. 

The destination proposed for the first part of their journey was 
the Great Salt Lake, which a division of the party, including 
Fremont, Carson, and five others, reached by descending Great 
Bear River. Embarking in the india-rubber boat, they found 
themselves in the midst of this great inland sea in a craft which 
hasty construction had made unseaworthy, while the waves in 
the distance were lashed by the rising wind into foamy white- 
ness. The transparency of the water enabled them to see the 
bottom of the lake through its emerald depths ; yet deceived 
them somewhat as to the real distance between them and the 
yellow sand beneath. They directed their course towards one 
of the lower islands, reaching it about noon. The spray, which 
had covered them with a crust of salt, clothed the low cliffs of 
this island with a glittering mantle of whiteness, and the hollows 
in the rocks were lined with the same substance to the depth of 
one-eighth of an inch. One thing from which they suffered on 
the journey had been the lack of salt; a want which they were 
now fortunately able to supply, as the water proved to be a 
saturated solution of common salt, without those other substances 
which render the water of the ocean bitter. Encamping for the 
night upon the island (which they named "Disajipointment," be- 
cause, afar off, they had thought its barren shores looked fertile), 
they were lulled by the murmur of the waves beating upon the 
cliffs. Eeturning in the morning to the camp where they had 
left two of their companions, they remained upon the shores of 
the lake for some time, subsisting upon what game they could 
kill. This was but a poor resource, and they were glad to wel- 
come the other division of the party that came with supplies. 

The severe and early winter of this high latitude was now ap- 
proaching, and Fremont, knowing that some of his party would 
not be able to endure its hardships, called them together and 
told them of what was yet to be undergone. Eleven of the party 
consented to return to the settlements, twenty-five pushing on- 
ward to the limit of their journey. Difficulties thickened around 
them. Although it was only the latter part of September, the 
weather was very cold, and the wintry rain was blown directly 
in their faces. It was no longer possible to journey regularly 



KIT CARSON. 429 

every day, and be certain of finding a suitable place for their 
camp at night. The many short and steep ascents in the road 
consumed the strength of both men and horses; and each cart 
had to be pushed up each steep inclination by tlie men. Two 
buffaloes were killed by Carson, and an ox that they had brought 
with them was slaughtered. The only Indians with whom they 
met were those tribes whose whole life was spent in the search 
for food, Diggers and the kindred fish-eating Indians. Both 
live during the summer iqjon the most loathsome animals; with 
long hooked sticks they draw the lizards from their holes, and 
by circles over the wide plains they drive into pits, prepared for 
the purpose, the abundant grasshoppers. In winter time they re- 
tire to those homes which a beneficent nature has fashioned for 
them — the caves in the rocks. 

By the presence of such inhabitants was the sterility of the 
country made manifest, biit Fremont pushed bravely on until he 
had fulfilled the orders under which he was acting. The arrival 
at a point on the Columbia river, one hundred and fifty miles in 
a bee-line from its mouth, connected his surveys and observations 
with those of Commander Wilkes, and fulfilled his instructions. 
He was not satisfied with the execution of his orders. Although 
it came in the form of an order from the War Department, per- 
mission to undertake this second exjjedition had been obtained 
with difficulty, and even rescinded after it was given; and he 
was so enthusiastic over his w^ork that he determined to take 
another route on his return, three principal 2:>oints being the spec- 
ial objects of interest. These were Klamath^Lake, a lake called 
Mary's, and a large river known by report as Bonaventura, flow- 
ing from its headwaters in the Eockies to the Pacific. The diffi- 
culty of their undertaking was enhanced by the season, and by 
the youth of some members of the party, several of whom were 
not twenty-one. The journey is one full of interest to the scien- 
tist j as the only white men by whom that country had been tra- 
versed were the hunters, who lacked skill and will to transfer 
their knowledge to. the printed page; but as far as reaching the 
three bodies of water above mentioned is concerned, it was a 
failure, simply because two of them have no existence, and the 
third, Klamath, is a lake when the snows from the neighboring 
mountains are melting, and a green plain during the remainder 
of the season. 

Day after day they journeyed painfully on in the hope of find- 



430 KIT CARSON. 

ing tlie fertile valley and wooded shores of the river of Good 
Luck ; but at last the hope was recognized as a vain one, and they 
determined to cross the mountains. For a few days they had fol- 
lowed a broad trail, and thus were relieved from anxiety regard- 
ing suitable places for encampment. Carson had described to 
them in glowing language the valley of the Sacramento, where, 
it will be remembered, he had been some fifteen years before. 
Towards this Land of Promise they bent their steps, undismayed 
by the fact that it was the middle of January, and that there 
were mountains to be crossed. To the camp established on the 
head waters of the Salmon-trout Eiver, came scores of Indians to 
warm their nearly naked bodies at the white men's fire, and to 
secure anything which could be gotten by fair means or foul. 
These were by no means disposed to underrate the difficulties of 
crossing the mountains; one old man, who seemed particularly 
intelligent, communicated to them by signs the information that 
in the proper season for making the journey across the moun- 
tains it was six sleeps to the place where the white men lived • 
but that now the journey could not be made ; that the snow would 
be over their heads. Fremont rej)lied that the men and horses 
were strong and would beat down a road through the snow; and 
a judicious display of the bales of scarlet cloth and the various 
trinkets they had brought with them, so wrought upon the ohl 
man that he began to describe the country beyond the mountains : 
if they were able to pass through the snow, he gave them to un- 
derstand they would find abundance of grass six inches high and 
no snow. This far he had been on elk hunts, and he brought into 
the camp a young man who had been to the settlements. Cap- 
tain Sutter's lordly domain was only about seventy miles from 
them, they knew, and persuading the young Indian to act as 
guide, they provided him with stouter moccasins than he was 
wearing, and comfortably warm clothing. Arraying himself in 
the blue and scarlet cloth, and the green blanket which they gave 
him, he strutted about the camp certainly the most gorgeously 
attired of all in it. Him, with two others, Fremont kej^t in his 
own lodge that night; Carson, who had previously shown them 
the use of his fire-arms, lying across the entrance. 

The commander addressed his men upon the undertaking the 
next day, not disguising the probable hardships, and telling them 
the distances as he had calculated them. They cheerfully assen- 
ted to his decision, and preparations for dei:)arture were immedi- 



KIT CARSON. 431 

ately begun. Provisions were very low. A dog- wMch had been 
found near Salt Lake and shared their life, had now become fat, 
and being killed made a strengthening meal for the party. There 
was no one who did not realize the difficulty and danger of the 
undertaking, and with a silence unusual to the light-hearted, 
talkative Creoles, they set out. 

The sun deepened as they advanced. One man with his horse 
led the way, beating down a path for the others until both were 
tired ; falling back to the rear, the next man took his place. The 
road which they had made was at sunset strewn with the camp 
equipage, the horses floundering in the snow, being unable to 
carry anythingc Beaching a level spot protected on one side by 
the mountain, and on the other by a ridge of rock, they encamped- 
for the night. A strong wind commenced at sunset, and the night 
was bitterly cold — one of the most severe they had yet exper- 
ienced. Here two Indians joined them, one an old man haran- 
guing them at considerable length regarding the difficulties of 
the particular pass they had chosen, and professing his ability 
to show them a better way. The Indian guide was much affect- 
ed by his repetitions of " Eock upon rock, snow upon snow, rock 
upon rock," and began to lament having left his own people, to 
die before he reached the whites. 

Awaking early in the morning, Fremont saw this temporary 
guide standing shivering before the fire, and threw another blan- 
ket over the Indian's shoulders. A few moments afterwards 
they missed him ; he had deserted, and they never saw him again. 

A part of the day was spent in the construction of snow-shoes 
and sledges, that the journey might be completed with more 
ease. Fremont and Carson left the men to this work, and climb- 
ed up the mountain to see what lay before them ; arrived at such 
a point in the pass as commanded a view beyond the range. Kit 
recognized with delight the lower peaks near the coast with 
which he had been familiar fifteen years before j pointing out to 
the leader the various points of interest as marking certain ad- 
ventures. "With almost incredible difficulty the body of men ad- 
vanced through the snow, which was from five to twenty feet 
deep. The first day after the encampment noted, a distance of 
only four miles was traversed j many being unused to snow-shoes, 
and all of them nearly blinded by the glaring whiteness. Days 
were spent in beating down the snow with mauls, so that the 
animals might be led along that road ; and fifteen days after the 



432 



KIT CARSON. 



desertion of their Indian guide, they encamped upon the summit 
of the pass, a thousand miles from the Columbia Eiver. The val- 
ley lay before them, and they thought the worst was over; but 
the descent was less easy than might have been thought. Deep 
fields of snow lay beneath them, and there were other, though 




FREMONT RESCUED BY CARSON. 

lower mountains to be crossed ; but before them lay the goal, and 
far off there glittered in the evening sun a silver line and a 
broad expanse of azure — the Sacramento Eiver and San Francisco 
Bay. Yet so often had they been deceived, that the question 
arose in each one's mind : "Is it not another salt inland lake? 



KIT CARSON. 433 

Here again tlie snow must be beaten down to make a roadway 
for the beasts of burden, and while the others of the party were 
engaged in this, the leader and the guide went on ahead to re- 
connoiter and select the best possible directions for the path. 

Coming to a small stream bordered on either side by. rocks, 
Carson bounded across, landing in safetj^ upon the op2:)Osite side, 
but Fremont's moccasin glanced from the icy rock and he fell in- 
to the little river. It was a few moments before he could recover 
himself, and Carson, thinking only of the danger to his leader, 
sprang into the midst of the floating ice to rescue him. Happily, no 
evil results ensued. Slowly the work of making a road went on, 
and at a snail's j)ace the party advanced towards the valley. Such 
were the hardships which they underwent, that more than one 
strong man was deranged by them. At last, one month after the 
first encampment upon the mountain-side, they reached Mr. Sut- 
ter's ranch, and received a most cordial welcome. 

Carson left the party as soon as his services were no longer 
necessary, and went back to Taos. Here he bought a farm, built 
a house, and settled down to the quiet, uneventful life of a hard- 
working agriculturist. Before they separated, however, he had 
promised Fremont to act as guide again, if another expedition 
should be organized ; and when that officer, in the spring of 1845, 
sent to claim the fulfillment of that promise. Kit sold at a great 
sacrifice the property that he had accumulated, and placing his 
family under the protection of Messrs. Bent and St. Vrain, went 
to the aj^pointed rendezvous.. The story of the early part of this 
expedition possesses little interest to us ; it is only when the 
party have reached California that the plot thickens. It will be 
remembered that Texas, which nine years before had won its in- 
dependence from Mexico by. a sanguinary contest, had this year 
made a successful application for admission into the Union; and 
that this was the very year in which the Mexican "War commen- 
ced. The threats of the Mexican officers in California somewhat 
alarmed Fremont, as he did not wish to begin hostilities, but he 
was permitted, when they found he did not mean to withdraw, 
to remain and finish his work. But although openly they were 
friendl}^ or at least neutral, the Indians were instigated by them 
to attack the Americans, as the people of the United States are 
called by both Mexicans and Indians. It was rumored that a 
thousand warriors were on their way there, where they were at 
the time intending to destroy that and any other American post. 



434 KIT CARSON. 

Captain Fremont had now been ten days at Lawson's Post, 
awaiting opportunity for continuing his journey. Finding, how- 
ever, that sucli there was not likely to be, a party was organized 
to march against the savages, and thus aid the more defenseless 
points. With five men from the post, besides his own command, 
they set out. Carson having been elected Lieutenant of the com- 
pany, the choice of the leader was thus confirmed by his men. 
They soon found the trail of a large party of Indians, and follow- 
ing it closely, came up with them. The savages repelled the 
attack with vigor and courage, but were defeated with terrible 
slaughter, and retreated in dismay to their fastnesses in the 
mountains. The newly-chosen lieutenant was in the thickest of 
the fight, as always, and did noble execution upon the enemies. 

Eeturning to Lawson's Post, they completed their prepara- 
tions, and recommenced their perilous journey. Fr'emont had 
determined to return byway of Oregon, and open up a new road 
between the northern and southern settlements. Proceeding 
northward, they passed several days in tranquil journej'ings ; 
when one evening, just as they had finished preparations for the 
night, they were surprised by the sudden appearance of two 
white men in their midst. They were only too well aware of 
the hardships and dangers which these two men must have en- 
countered, and accorded them a hearty welcome. Warmed and 
fed, they were permitted to tell their story. They were part of 
a detachment of six men, escorting a United States olficer across 
the plains with despatches for various points in California j he 
being instructed, after these despatches should have been deliv- 
ered, to find Capt. Fremont wherever he might be. They had 
left the main party two days before, and had only escaped from 
the Indians, that pursued them more than once, by the swiftness 
of their horses. 

Fremont and Carson, with a picked body of ten men, immedi- 
ately set oiit in the direction indicated by the messengers. In the 
trackless wilderness, it is no easy matter to find a wandering 
party, but Carson advised a halt at a certain pass, and here the 
other party joined them. The officer proved to be Lieut. Gilles- 
pie, with letters for Fremont from his family — the first news he 
had received of them since the beginning of the journey. He 
sat up until midnight, keeping up a good fire, but as the men 
had marched sixty miles without a halt, he did not require a 
guard to be kept for the remainder of the night. 



KIT CARSON. 



435 




436 



KIT CARSON. 




KIT CARSON. 437 

At last the fire died down; the commander slept as soundly as 
his men — more soundly than one of them. An unusual sound, a 
dull thud as of a heavy blow, — was that a groan ? — and Carson's 
light sleep was broken. 

" What's the matter there ?" he called to Basil Lajeunesse, who 
lay beside him. 

No answer came. Springing up, he saw in far less time than 
it takes to tell it, that the blow of an axe had crushed in the heads 
of Basil and his next neighbor — one had never known what kill- 
ed him, the other had groaned as he died. Aroused by Kit's 
voice, the four friendly Delawares, and, a moment later, the 
whites, sprang up. Each man fought for his life, and the Indian 
chief having been killed, theKlamaths fled. Three of the whites 
had been killed and one of the Delawares wounded. These very 
Indians had been to the camp a few days before, and although 
there was little meat on hand, Capt. Fremont had divided with 
them, and had even unpacked a mule to give them knives and 
tobacco. 

Sadly they left the encampment, bearing with them the bodies 
of their fallen comrades as long as they could carry them; then, 
because a grave could not be dug in that hard soil without im- 
plements, they buried them under the fallen timber. They did 
not again omit the precaution of placing a guard at night — espe- 
cially necessary, since the Indians throughout the whole region 
were in arms. Lieutenant Gillespie had brought the information 
that war with Mexico had been declared, and Fremont deter- 
mined to go back to California. Making the circuit of Klamath 
Lake, he encamped at a spot nearly oj^posite that where his three 
men had been killed, and sent Carson, with ten men, forward to 
see if there were an Indian town in the neighborhood, leaving an 
attack to his discretion. The little party soon came upon an In- 
dian village containing about fifty lodges. By the commotion 
in the town they knew that their vicinity had been discovered, 
and lost no time in attacking the Klamaths. The Indians fought 
as all men do in defending their homes, but were at length com- 
pelled to retreat, and Carson and his party took possession of 
the village. This was the most highly adorned of any that they 
had yet seen, and the lodges were jirovided with unusually con- 
venient appliances and utensils for cooking; but Carson felt that 
its destruction was necessary, and gave orders accordingly. The 
ascending smoke gave Frcmort notice that an encounter had 



438 



KIT C ARSON. 



taken place, and not knowing its issue, he hurried foi-ward with 
the main body; but he arrived only in time to hear the pleasant 
news of victory. 

They moved away from this spot, but soon Premont deter- 




CARSON SWKD P.V FRKMONT, 

mined to punish the Indians still more, if possible. So he sent 
back a party of twenty to tho ruins of the village to lay in wait 
for the return of tlie Indians, who would naturally soon revisit 
it and look after their dep,d. Soon about fifty savages appeared, 



KIT CARSON. 439 

and word was sent to the main bod}', .is by 23revious arrangement. 
Fremont, Carson and six men hastened to reinforce the party. 
On apiH'oaching the ruins, Carson saw only one Indian wander- 
ing about, and dashed at him, raising his rifle to fire; but the gun 
only snapped, and he was apjiarently at the mercy of the savage, 
who instantly drew an arrow to the head and would have shot 
Carson dead; but Fremont had seen his friend's danger, and, 
plunging the roAvels into the side of his horse, he reached, knock- 
ed down and rode over the Indian before the arrow could leave 
the bow, thus saving Kit's life by prompt and brave action. 

Inspired by their successes, they continued on their journey to 
the valley of the Sacramento. Four daj's after the attack upon 
the Indian village they came to a point where the easiest road 
led through i\, decj) canon, but Carson, scenting danger ahead, 
advised another, although a more difficult route. It Avas well that 
they acted upon this counsel, for a large party of the Klamaths 
lay m ambush in the narrow passage. Disappointed at this fail- 
ure of their plans, they rushed out and attacked the whites, but 
were repulsed without much trouble. One old warrior stood his 
ground, advancing from tree to tree cautiously, and shooting rap- 
idly at Carson and another man who were edging their way to- 
wards him. At last, an unlucky exposure of his person brought 
Kit's rifle into position, and in another moment the ball from it 
had reached the savage's heart. 

Reaching the valley of the Sacramento, they had not been long 
in camp before the men began to grow restless from inactivity, 
and Fremont decided not to wait for positive orders. Sonoma 
was taken, and Monterey would have yielded to them if Commo- 
dore Sloat had not anticipated them. The Americans in Cali- 
fornia rallied in great numbers around Fremont's party, inde- 
pendence of Mexican rule was declared by them, and the Bear 
Flag and the Stars and Strij^es floated side by side over the camj). 

San Diego was taken after Dos Angelos had been occui^icd and 
abandoned, and here Commodore Stockton established himself, 
appointing Col. Fremont Governor of California, and Carson, 
with a force of fifteen men, was sent with despatches to Wash- 
ington. He was instructed to make the journey in sixty days if 
possible; ^his he felt confident he could do. Coming upon a par- 
ty of Apache Indians, his boldness disconcerted them, and they 
provided him with fresh horses for the continuance of his jour- 
ney. His friendly relations, personally, with the Mexicans, en. 



440 KIT CARSON. 

abled him to obtain from them a fresh supply of food. He was 
not far from Taos when he descried a speck moving across the 
prairies, which he knew could not he any natural object. As it 
drew nearer, he found it was an expedition sent out by the Uni- 
ted States Government, under the command of General Kearney, 
for the relief of the few men in California. lie lost no time in 
presenting himself to this officer, describing the state of affairs 
there and the nature of his errand. Gen. Kearney jiroposed that 
Carson should turn over the despatches to another messenger, 
and return with him and his command to California. Kit knew 
that the successful bearer of despatches would be recognized by 
the Government as a valuable servant; he was within a short 
journey of his family, whom he had not seen for many weary 
months ; but he knew, also, what his services would be worth to 
Kearney, and with a cheerful " As the General pleases," gave up 
the papers to the messenger selected, and took up the march back 
to California. 

From the eighteenth of October until the third of December, 
they were on the road j camping on the evening of the latter date 
within the limits of California, and advancing the next morning 
toward San Diego. A scouting party under Carson's command 
captured and brought into camp some spies that had been sent out 
by Gen. Castro, then in Los Angelos. These being forced to give 
information, told them that the Mexicans were planning to at- 
tack them before they could join their allies in San Diego. Car- 
son, thoroughly familiar with both parties, advised Kearney to 
evade this attack, while his men and horses were exhausted by 
reason of the long journey, and to take another route. Kearney, 
acquainted only with the Mexicans in the eastern part of their 
country, where he was accustomed to take towns by simply sum- 
moning the alcalde to surrender, and not knowing that those in 
California had acquired the enei-gy and courage of his own coun- 
trymen, persisted in keeping the same route. Approaching with- 
in fifteen miles of the enemy's forces, a reconnoitering party re- 
ported that they were encamped and strongly fortified in an In- 
dian village. The scout was discovered and pursued, but suc- 
ceeded in reaching the camp in safety. 

Gen. Kearney determined to attack them without delay, and 
for that purpose ordered an advance at one o'clock in the morn- 
ing. Tired and hungry, the troops came upon the Mexican 
advance guard before day. These men, stationed here to prevent 




MiOJUAH TOWNS SURRENDEBING TO GEif. JLEAiiNJilir. 



442 KIT CARSON. 

a surprise, slept fully dressed, with their saddles as pillows, and 
their hoi'ses picketed near by, so that each man could be ready 
to repulse an attack as soon as awakened by the neighborhood 
of an enemy. The attacking force consisted of fifteen Ameri- 
cans, under the command of Capt. Johnson, with Carson as 
second ofiicer. The guard drew back into camp, and the party 
under Johnson and Carson was reinforced by Capt. Moore, with 
twenty-five men. Moore ordered an attack upon the enemy's 
center, hoping to eff'ect a division and create confusion in the 
camp. Onward they rode " into the jaws of death." Carson's 
horse stumbled and fell, carrying the rider to the ground. There 
he lay, unable to rise until the whole body of horsemen should 
have galloped past. Eising as soon as they passed him, he 
caught up a gun from the hand of a dead comrade (for his own 
had been shivered to pieces by the fall), mounted and rode on- 
ward. Many of the men were mounted on mules which proved 
unmanageable, and although the Mexicans were forced to retreat 
a short distance, they soon discovered the condition of the 
Americans, and turning back, transformed what would have been 
a nearly bloodless victory into a terrible slaughter. Thirty of 
the forty mounted on horses were either killed or severely 
wounded, and although the main party of the Americans came 
up to reinforce their comrades, the Mexicans fought with such 
fierce courage that it seemed a hopeless case. Gen. Kearney, 
although wounded, remained at the head of his troops, hoping 
that two mountain howitzers, which were to be brought up, 
would materially assist his efforts to force the Mexicans to re- 
treat. But they had not been made ready for use before the 
gunners were shot down, and the lasso captured the horses at- 
tached to one. Some fortunate accident or ignorance rendered 
the Mexicans unable to use the gun, or still greater slaughter 
might have ensued. 

Retreating to the rocky shelter near by, the Americans, who 
had only three officers, including Carson, remaining, waited for 
pursuit from the enemy. Both sides were exhausted by the long 
day's fighting, and neither cheered by the consciousness of a de- 
cided victory. The winter night was si:)ent in burjnng the dead 
and tending the wounded; while the enemy was receiving rein- 
forcements of both Mexicans and Indians. 

The next morning they took up the line of march towards San 
Diego, as had been decided in the council of war held during the 



kiT CARSOI?. 443 

night ; Carson, with a body of twenty-five able-bodied inen lead- 
ing the wa}', followed by the wounded and those employed in 
tending and transporting them. They were about to encamp by 
a stream of water for the night, when the Mexicans made a vig- 
orous charge upon them. Unable in their weakened condition 
to support an attack from such superior numbers, they were obli- 
ged to give way, and retired to a hill a short distance off. The 
Mexicans drew off to a neighboring height, and commenced a 
deadly cannonade; but were dislodged by a party of Americans, 
and the eminence was soon occupied by the main body of Kearney's 
men. They were without food, and there was only water enough 
for the men. Their condition was desperate, and only desperate 
measures could be proposed in the council of w^ar which was 
held. Carson listened to what the otliers had to say, and then 
rose in the council and said : 

" Our case is a desperate one, but there is yet hope. If we stay 
here, we are all dead, men ; our animals cannot last long, and the 
soldiers and marines at San Diego do not know that we are com- 
ing. But if they receive information of our position, they will 
hasten to the rescue. There is no use thinking how or why we 
are here, biit only when and how we are going to get away. I 
will attemj^t to go through the Mexican lines to San Diego, and 
get relief from Commodore Stockton." 

Lieutenant Beale, of the United States Navy, since widely and 
favorably known as an explorer, volunteered to accompany him, 
and the proposition being accejDted by Gen. Kearney, they left 
the camp as soon as it was sufficiently dark. .They had learned 
from their Indian allies the habit of putting the ear to the ground 
to hear any suspected noise, and were thus able to inform them- 
selves of the movements of their enemies, sometimes when those 
enemies were most confident of a secret advance or retreat. The 
two messengers accordingly took off theirshoesin order to insure 
silence. They found that the Mexicans had placed three lines 
of sentinels around the hill on which the Americans were en- 
camped, thus making it extremely difficult to evade their watch. 
Several times, as they crept cautiously along the earth, the sen- 
tinel might easily have touched them with the long barrel of his 
gun. Slowly they advanced, and at last got clear of the Mex- 
ican lines, though not of all difficulties. For the distance of two 
miles they had crawled upon the ground, sometimes each hear- 
ing the other's heart beat in the deathly stillness. At last 



444 KIT CARSON. 

they could spring to their feet, and speak to each other their joy 
at escaping thus far. But they must avoid the beaten road, lest 
they be pursued and captured ; and through the bushes they trod 
with shoeless feet, the earth covered with the thorns of the prick- 
ly pear. All that night, all the next day, far into the next night 
they continued their journey„ At last the challenge of the sen- 
tinel at San Diego was heard ; they answered, " Friends," and were 
taken into the presence of Commodore Stockton. Their story 
was told, and a force of two hundred men ordered to proceed 
by forced marches to the relief of their suffering countrymen. 

Carson was detained in San Diego, as without proper care there 
was danger of his losing both his feet, so much had they been lac- 
erated on this literally "thorny path of duty." Lieutenant Beale 
was partially deranged by the hardships of the journey, and did 
not fully recover his physical health for two years. 

Gen. Kearney's troops and the escort sent, reached San Diego 
without being molested again by the Mexicans, whose numbers 
were notsufficientto justify them in attacking so large and strong 
a force. The Americans remained for several weeks in garrison, 
recruiting their strength. A force of six hundred at last took the 
field under Gen. Kearney and Com. Stockton, to march against 
Los Angeles, where there were about seven hundred of the 
enemy. The Mexicans were soon forced to break up the camp 
which they had established just outside the town, and the Amer- 
icans took possession of Los Angelos. Their success was an 
empty one, however, for the Mexicans evaded their pursuit, sur- 
rendering to Col. Fremont, who, with a force of four hundred 
men, was marching from Monterey to Los Angelos. Acting on 
Carson's advice, Fremont had used every effort, during his en- 
tire stay in California, to propitiate the Mexicans j but Kearney, 
judging them by the natives of what is now eastern Mexico, was 
at no pains to conceal his contempt and aversion. This attitude 
was an unfortunate one, as, if Fremont had been in command, 
the struggle upon the Pacific coast would have been much less 
sanguinary ; his policy of conciliation would have won over many 
of the Mexicans who admired their American friends and*wished 
to imitate them. 

During the few succeeding months of the war there was a lull 
in the hostilities in this portion of the country. Stockton was 
made civil governor, Fremont general-in-chief of the California 
forces, with Carson for his first lieutenant. An Englishman, who 



KIT CARSON, 



445 



landed in July, 1846, at Monterey, from a British man-of-war 
which had been sent there, thus describes Fremont and his men: 

" Fremont rode ahead, a sjDare, active looking man, with such 
an eye. He was dressed in a blouse and leggings, and wore a 
felt hat. After him came five Delaware Indians, who were his 
body-guard, and have been with him through all his wanderings. 
The rest, many of them blacker than the Indians, rode two and 
two, the rifle held by one hand across the pommel of the saddle, 
. . . . He has one or two with him who enjoy a high repu- 
tation in the jDrairies. 
Kit Carson is as well 
known there as the 
Duke of Wellington 
is in Europe. The 
dress of these men 
was principally a 
long, loose coat of 
deer-skin, tied with 
thongs in front; 
trowsers of the same, 
of their own manu- 
facture." 

Carson had joined 
Col. Fremont as soon 
as it was possible for 
him to leave Kear- 
ney, and was gladly 
welcomed. In March, 
1847, he was again 
entrusted with de- 
spatches for Washington, Lieutenant Boale being detailed to 
accompany him with reports for the Secretary of the Navy. The 
companion of his perilous journey from I^earney's camp to San 
Diego was still so weak that Carson, for the first twenty days 
of the journey, had to lift him off and on his horse ; but the 
pure air, healthful exercise and genial comjianionship soon 

strengthened him. 

The long journey was accomplished without harm to any of the 
party. The incidents of the journey were such as in these days 
of rapid and safe transportation would be alarming, but then 
were regarded as every-day affairs. Arrived in St. Louis, Col. 




GEX. JOHX C. FREMONT. 



446 kiT CARSOJt. 

Benton received him cordially. In "Washington Mrs. Premont 
met him at the depot, and declaring that her husband's descrip- 
tion had made an introduction unnecessary, conducted him to her 
own and her father's house. He was lionized to an extent quite 
puzzling to himself — he had only done what he ought, — the 
Grovernment's recognition of his services being a lieutenant's 
commission in Col. Fremont's regiment. In command of fifty 
men, he started on the return trip, which was made in complete 
safety until the " Point of Rocks " was reached. Here, a spur 
of rocky hills gives shelter to an ambush, while the grass and 
water at their base invite the caravan to encam23. The horses and 
cattle of a volunteer company camping here were stolen by the 
Indians, but such was the confusion that followed, that Carson, 
who was resting near by for the night, proved that his right to 
the title of the "Thief-Taker" had not diminished, and the ani- 
mals were all restored to their owners by him. 

The succeeding spring (1848) he was again sent to Washington 
as the bearer of despatches. At Santa Fe he learned that his 
appointment, made by the President, had not been confirmed by 
the Senate, and was urged to leave the dangers to be encounter- 
ed by those who reaped the rewards due him. But although he 
had seen evidences of unworthy favoritism and gratification of 
political rivalries, he had no notion of letting such things influ- 
ence his own conduct. The mission was successfully accomplish- 
ed, and, avoiding all difficulties with the Apaches, he returned 
in safety to his home at Taos, and settled to his old, peaceful oc- 
cupation. Here he entertained his old commander and the par- 
ty engaged in making a winter survey of a pass for a road to 
California. An old trapper of twenty-five years'experience had 
been employed as guide, but so incomj^etentwas he for the work, 
that they blundered for half a month through the deep snow. 
Fully one-third of the party died from starvation and freezing. 

Life at Taos was interrupted by occasional expeditions as 
guide. On the banks of the broad mountain stream that flows 
through the valley, stood the comfortable houses of Carson and 
his friend Maxwell. To both, but especially to the former, came 
the small, lithe Apaches, and the Comanches, nearly half Mexi- 
can in blood J they feared not to come to the home of ''Father 
Kit," as they have called him. But like a judicious parent, he 
never hesitated to chastise his self-styled children, as more than 
one incident bears witness. 



KIT CARSON. 447 

In the winter of 1849-50, the Indians were more than usually 
troublesome. On one occasion, a party of them had stolen all 
the horses belonging to a detachment often dragoons, encamped 
in the vicinity of Taos. An expedition was immediately organ- 
ized, consisting of three settlers, and the soldiers who had been 
robbed, under the command of Carson, by whom it had been 
planned. Four of the party, being but poorly mounted, fell be 
hind, and the remaining ten came up witlf the thieves. There 
were twenty warriors, all well-armed and well-mounted ; and 
they had no notion of giving up their booty. Had they been 
content to abandon the animals to their rightful owners, they 
would have escaped, but as it was, the sharp conflict which fol- 
lowed resulted in the loss of five warriors. Perceiving that the 
leader of their enemies was the one who had never yet been de- 
feated by them, they rode off, leaving all the stolen horses but 
four to the attacking party. 

But it was only occasionally that the peacefulness of his life 
was thus interrupted. Learning at some time during the next 
summer, that a number of desperadoes had volunteered to ac- 
company two wealthy men to the settlements in the states, in- 
tending to rob them by the way, Carson collected a party, and in 
one hour from the time of receiving the information, was follow- 
ing them. The first party had been gone some time when he learn- 
ed of the plot, and it was not easy to overtake them. At a distance 
from Taos representing two days' march a recruiting officer join- 
ed Kit with twenty men, and by forced marches soon overtook 
the caravans, and arrested the ring-leader. .Messrs. Brevoort 
and Weatherhead, when informed of the danger, quickly recov- 
ered from their first surprise, and offered a reward proportion- 
ate to the service done. This, however, Carson was resolute in 
refusing, until, when the traders returned from St. Louis, they 
presented him with a handsome pair of silver-mounted pistols, 
suitably inscribed. 

The next summei-, he started to St. Louis as a trader, intend- 
ing also to visit his daughter, who was married and living there. 
On his return, he met with what was perhaps the most perilous 
adventure of his life after the close of the war with Mexico. The 
officer of a party of United States troops bound to ISTcav Mexico 
had affronted the Cheyenne Indians by whipping one of their 
chiefs. The Indians were unable to revenge this insult upon the 
real offender, but, full of vindictive rage, were lying in wait for 



448 KIT CARSON. 

other and weaker bodies of -white men. Carson's chanced to be 
the next party with which they met, and, in consequence, was 
the one which must feel the weight of their anger. The fifteen 
white men Avere taken prisoners, and were placed in the midst of 
a circle' of warriors. As the warriors arranged all the details to 
their satisfaction, settling how they should dispose of the booty 
and when the prisoners should be put to death. Kit revolved 
their situation in hil own mind. Well known and loved by this 
very tribe while he was acting as hunter for Bent's Port, so many 
years had passed since then, so many insults and injuries had 
been heaped upon them, so many incompetent men had been sent 
to fight them, that they had lost their old reverence for his name, 
as they lu-.d forgotten his face. The Indians had spoken in their 
own tongue, thinking that it was not understood by the prison- 
ers; judge of their surprise, then, when the cai:)tive leader step- 
ped forward and addressed them in Cheyenne. He told them his 
name, and reminded them of past friendship ; hinting at the pun- 
ishment which would certainly follow if they put his party to 
death. The Indians released them, but Carson proceeded cau- 
tiously, knowing that he was by no means safe. After they had 
encamped for the night, he despatched a Mexican boy, in whom he 
had great confidence, to Eayedo, to ask for reinforcements; so 
that when five warriors galloj)ed towards him the next day, they 
were somewhat astonished to see his force. The rapid march 
of the troops, in accordance with the request, did the Indians 
much good, as they thus learned the spirit animating the soldiers. 
A long journey undertaken for the purpose of trapping on the 
old familiar ground, a trip overland to California with large flocks 
of sheep, for a trading venture ; a lionizing in the early days 
of the city of San Francisco, strangely changed between 1848 
and '53; faithful performance of his duties as Indian Agent for 
New Mexico, to which post he was appointed late in the year 
1853; promotion from rank to rank during the Civil War, until 
he was brevetted Brigadier-General; important services to the 
government in the task of subduing and conciliating the Indians; 
all these fill up the measure of his days. Adventures, which to 
us would seem hair-breadth escapes, were passed by as every day 
occurrences in his' life, and rarely chronicled by any one. He 
died at Fort Lyon, Col., in May, 1868. Nearly fifteen years have 
passed since then, but the memory of the " Monarch of the Prai- 
ries" is kept green by those who love tales of border adventure. 



CHAPTER XVII. 



GET^EEAL WILLIAM S. HAEl^EY. 

ALTHOUGH settled as early as 1756, at the close of the last 
century, Tennessee, the late state admitted into the nnion, 
was little more than a wilderness, except around those centers 
of civilization where had been the first settlements. To its wilds 
had already been attracted some of the most daring and patriotic 
spirits of the time ; the Hermitage was not yet built, but already 
the name of Jackson was prominent in its annals ; from this state 
was Missouri to call that man, who sat longer than any other in 
the highest council of the nation ; here were Crockett and Hous- 
ton to become known thereafter; here had removed a gallant 
'.'fficer of the Eevolutionary army, Major Thomas Harney, and 
here, in August, 1800, w^as born the youngest of his six sons. 
William Selby Harney. 

Left a wido\^whcn her children were all young, Mrs. Harney 
intended her youngest son for a sailor, but destiny overruled 
her wishes. The youth of seventeen visited, during one of his 
school vacations, an elder brollier serving as army surgeon at 
Baton Eouge. Attracting the attention and a^fJ[^iring the friend- 
ship of Gen. Jessup, who was in command, he was asked by that 
officer if he did not wish to enter the army. He replied that 
his mother intended him for the nav^', but a few days afterwards 
Gen. Jessup handed him a commission as second lieutenant. 
This bore the date of Feb. 13, 1818, and in June of the same 
year the young officer, not yet eighteen years old, joined his 
regiment, then serving in Louisiana. 

His first active service was against the pirates who then in- 
fested the Gulf coast. There had never been a time, since the 
sixteenth century, when piracy did not exist in the waters wash- 
ing the shores of Louisiana, Florida and Cuba. For many years 
the commander of these outlaws had been the elder of the two 
brothers Lafitte^ themselves French, and disposed to be friends 



460 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 



with those of their own race in Louisiana. It was to secure the 
aid of this lawless host that Gen. Jackson, in 1814, declared 
martial law in Louisiana, and ordered oif the bench the judge 
who refused to release the Lafittcs then awaiting trial. It is 
doubtful if the famous battle could have been gained without them, 
and Gen. Jackson secured the pardon of the brothers, on condition 
that they abandon the life they had been leading. The condi- 
tion was faithfully observed, and the pirates being left without 

a leader, were scattered abroad 
to commit lesser depredations. 
It was to pursue and punish 
some of these that Lieutenant 
Harney's company was sent 
soon after he joined. 

On reaching the archipelago, 
the company made their head- 
quarters at New, near Navia 
Bay, whence a detachment un- 
der Lieut. Harney was sent to 
ascend the bay to rcconnoiter. 
Here he discovered and took 
GEN, w. s. HAKAKir. posscssion of some vessels bal- 

lasted with bar-iron. Examination showed that the bars were hoi- 

■m 

low, and filled with quicksilver. The detachment was delayed so 
long that the main body supposed all the men in it had been kill- 
ed, and were considerably surprised to learn of their safe return 
with the prize they had captured. 

Cruising with his detachment in a boat on the bay, Lieut. Har- 
ney signaled a small sailing vessel. She hove to, and the detach- 
ment boarded her. 

"Let me see your papers, sir," demanded their officer of the 
captain. Descending into the cabin, the commander reapijeared 
with what he claimed was his ship's register. As the lieutenant 
looked at them, a voice in his ear said : 

" The captain has just given his men orders, in French, to get 
ready to fight." 

In a moment the crew had been secured, the captain having 
been thrown down the hatchway, and the lieutenant and his men 
returned in triumph wath the smuggler. So closed his first cam- 
paign. Soon after his return in January, 1819, he was ordered 
to Boston on recruiting service, where he remained for more than 




GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 451 

a year. Ordered to report for active duty in June, 1820, he was 
selected by Gen. Jackson, his father's friend and neighbor, to 
serve as temporary aid during the absence of an officer on his 
staff. Jackson was at this time acting as governor of Florida, 
which had been but recently purchased of Spain, and honored 
Lieut. Harney with the command of the guard attendant on the 
transfer of the territory from one government to another. It is 
not yet that we find him engaged in that active service which 
has connected his name alike with the everglades of Florida and 
the wilds of Oregon. 

It was in 1824, after he had exchanged into the artillery, that 
Lieut. Harney first saw St. Louis, to be in future the home to 
which he should look with longing eyes. The peculiarly French 
gaiety which then distinguished the society of this city, was 
particularly to the taste of the young lieutenant, with animal 
spirits, and possessed of physical advantages which secured him 
the favor of the ladies. Ordered to proceed to Council Bluffs, 
the orders were countermanded soon after they started, and the 
four companies wintered at Bellefontaine, fifteen miles above the 
city ; whence in the spring they resumed the perilous journey 
in keel-boats uji the Missouri, on the banks of which, above 
Boonville, were no white settlements. 

Arriving safely at Two Thousand Mile Creek, a council was 
held with the Crows, Mandans and Gros-Yentres, which, but 
for Lieut. Harney, might have terminated most disastrously. 
One of the conditions of the treaty was the restoration of a 
family of British subjects that had been taken,prisoners, and for 
whose liberation the English minister had asked. The inter- 
preter finished, stating all the details, and the chiefs sat motion- 
less. After a moment's pause, one arose and said that they were 
willing to liberate the captives, but a ransom must be paid. Ir- 
ritable by reason of a recent illness, one of the commissioners, 
Major O'Fallon, lost his temper at the cool audacity of the chief, 
and advancing into the circle struck first the si^eaker and then 
two other chiefs over the head and face with his horse-pistol. 
Not a word was spoken by either the outraged chiefs or the start- 
led Americans, as a comrade caught the offender before he could 
strike another of the Indians; but the savage warriors seized 
their arms and assumed a defensive or offensive attitude. It was 
a moment of extreme peril, for the Indians far outnumbered the 

whites. 

29 



452 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 

The disciplined trooiss were called to arms, and the commis- 
sioners tried to explain to the Indians that Major O'Fallon's action 
was the result of delirium. The ex2:)lanation was received in grim 
silence, and when Lieut. Harney, with outstretched hand, advan- 
ced towards the Crow chief, the Indian, folding his arms, looked 
at him in sullen defiance. Cursing the chief, he looked him stead- 
ily in the eye for a few moments; finally the chief took the ex- 
tended hand. Order was restored and the negotiations contin- 
ued; the family was released on payment of the ransom demand- 
ed, and a treaty of peace concluded. 

Lieutenant Harney, a tall, spare man, possessed of powers of 
endurance equal to his strength, had acquired a reputation as a 
runner that had reached the ears of the tribes dwelling on the 
upper Missouri, and they were extremely anxious to test his 
fleetness. He had a race with a Crow Indian, but encumbered 
with his uniform, with his pockets full of relics and curiosities 
he had been buying from them, the Indian won. Harney grace- 
fully acknowledged the defeat, and challenged his antagonist to 
another race the next day. The Indians retired well pleased with 
the success of their chami^ion, and returned the next day at the 
aj)pointed time and place, laden with bufialo robes, tobacco, and 
all the ornaments and treasures they could muster for a reward to 
the winner. Over a level, grassy prairie they ran, and for some 
distance the Indian was in the lead. 

"A little faster, Harney, or he'll beat you," cried a brother 
officer, jealous for his comrade's reputation. Eenewing his ef- 
forts, he soon passed the Indian, and was the first to reach the 
goal, a half-mile from the starting point. 

"I wouldn't have had you lose that race for a thousand dol- 
lars," said G-en. Atkinson. Both sides felt much interest in the 
race, and his fleetness of foot raised him greatly in the consider- 
ation of the Indians. 

Returning to the east, at Council Bluffs he heard of his pro- 
motion to the rank of captain, and at the same time received an 
offer which was a sore temptation to the soldier Avith no fortune 
but his good name and his sword. Struck with his manly cour- 
age and energy. Gen. Ashley, an eminent pioneer citizen of St. 
Louis, proposed to fit out a trading expedition to the Yellow- 
stone, and place Harney in charge of it; but the soldier, born 
for the battle-field, declined the generous proffer. 

Arriving at St. Loiiis in October, 1825, he was ordered to re- 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 



453 




port to his regiment for duty in the Creek Nation, where he re- 
mained until the succeeding June. Ordered to New Orleans then, 
he there made the acquaintance of the Duke of Saxe-Weimar; as 
well as of an entirely different person, the ex-pirato Lafitte. A 



454 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 



year later he proceeded to the north, where the long imprison- 
ment of Black Hawk was whetting his appetite for war; that no- 
ted chief having been captured while on a marauding expedition 
with Eed Bird, and held for trial. 

His movements for the next two years are of but little inter- 
est. True, it was at Fort Winnebago, on G-reen Bay, in 1828, that 
he first met a certain second-lieutenant in the army, Jefferson 
Davis, with whom he formed a friendship that lasted for fifty 
years, unshaken by political differences. 




ANOTHER RACE AND A COLD BATH. 

Stationed at Portage-des-Sioux, between the Fox and the Wis- 
consin, in the winter of 1829-30, he volunteered to take his com- 
pany to the pineries, to cut timber for a fort. They had return- 
ed to the camp, waiting for spring to open. The weather was bit- 
ter cold, and the Fox Eiver frozen over, when another exciting 
foot race occurred. An Indian had broken one of the rules of the 
garrison, and Capt. Harney, always a strict disciplinarian, resol- 
ved to administer a flogging. Believing in a fair chance for 
every one, he told the Indian that if he reached a certain point 
without being overtaken, having a start of a hundred yards, he 
should escape the flogging. The race was on the ice, and both 



OENERAii WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 455 

men, moccasined, belted and stripped for the run, set off at full 
speed, the captain swinging a cow-hide. The red man ran for 
his skin, the white man for his reputation, and despite his 
irreater motive, the Indian knew that the cow-hide was com- 
ing nearer to him. Directing his course towards one of the nu- 
merous air-holes, he sped safely over the thin crust of ice, through 
which his heavier pursuer sank into the cold water. An expert 
swimmer, Capt. Harney with a few strokes, reached the thick 
ice, but his cow-hide was lost, and ho returned to camp. The 
Winnebago had sufficient consideration for himself to keep away 
from the camp while Captain Harney remained there. 

We again take leave of our hero until 1832, going back two years 
from that date to explain the position of the Indians with regard 
to the Government. In June, 1830, many of the Indians sold 
their lands to the government and prepared to remove west of 
the Mississippi, but the Sacs and Foxes, the Sioux, Omahas, lowas, 
and Ottawas, refused to remove to the rese^-vations provided for 
them. Keokuk was the head chief of the first mentioned tribe, 
and used his utmost efforts to persuade them to adopt the treaty, 
but Black Hawk's influence outweighed his, and the lattcr's ar- 
guments were backed hj the memory of the unprovoked brutal- 
ity of the white settlers. Secret negotiations among the tribes 
had almost consolidated the various nations, and Keokuk, re- 
penting of the sale of his country, endeavored, without success, 
to secure different terms from the government. Thinking them- 
selves safe, the warriors of the tribe set out on their fall hunt; re- 
turning to find their women and children without a shelter, the 
white people having taken possession of their villages. Encamp- 
ing on the Mississippi, they at length resolved upon re-taking 
their towns, but neither party could overcome the other, and 
they decided to live together. This arrangement resulted badly 
for the Indians, as they were exposed to ever}^ kind of fraud. 
Black Hawk determined that his people should not be the aggres- 
sors, and they carefully refrained from acts of violence and blood- 
shed. 

The governor of Illinois, frightened by the threatened war, 
called out the militia to assist Gen. Gaines, but that officer succeed- 
ed in effecting his pacific purpose for a time without bloodshed. 
But this quiet did not last long. At a council early in June, 1831, 
Black Hawk told Gen. Gaines that he would not leave his lands, 
and was not afraid of the U. S. soldiers. He was deceived in 



456 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 

supposing that his reinforcements from the other tribes would be 
very large, whereas Gen. Gaines was more accurately informed. 
The Illinois volunteers, seven hundred in number, arrived at 
headquarters, the Indian allies of the chief retreated across the 
river, and the general took possession of their villages. A treaty 
followed, but it was broken in less than a year. 

Black Hawk reappeared uj)on the Kock Kiver in the spring 
of 1832 ; and Major Stillman was sent towards Sycamore Creek 
with two hundred and seventy men. Black Hawk's flag of truce 
was disregarded, its three bearers treated as prisoners, and the 
party sent to inquire after them pursued, two being killed. 
Major Stillman determined to lose no time, and moved forward 
with more haste than order upon the Indian encampment. Here 
there were but forty warriors, the others being on a hunting ex- 
pedition, but Black Hawk had already heard of the fate of his five 
messengers, and they were prepared for an attack. Towards the 
encampment the troops marched, anticipating an easy victory ; 
confusion and precipitation marked their advance ; and as the 
Indians rushed upon them before they had well crossed the creek, 
they retreated as they had advanced. 

Flushed with victory, the chief sent runners to the Sacs and 
Missouris, who reached their destination twenty-four hours be- 
fore despatches reached the whites; and the good news aroused 
the Indians to new spirit. Their butcheries and depredations 
spread terror and panic over all the border. They cannot be 
blamed too severely for this, for until the courtesies of war were 
so deliberately violated by the whites, they had displayed a pa- 
tience and forbearance seldom found on either side in the annals 
of Indian warfare. 

Soon after Capt. Harney reported to Fort Armstrong and was 
ordered to an outpost near to the scene of Stillman's defeat. 
At the fort he made the acquaintance of Col. Zachary Taylor, 
and of a young militia captain, a country lawyer, who had en- 
listed to gain the political capital which military service could 
give him — Abraham Lincoln. To the tall and awkward joker, 
and the equally tall, but lithe and graceful listener, who were so 
often companions, the soldiers in good-natured irony gave the 
nick-name of " the two ponies." Capt. Harney was here fre- 
quently sent out to reconnoiter, as the volunteers, very much 
afraid of Black Hawk since Stillman's defeat, could not be relied 
upon for such duty. 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 



457 



This regiment of militia was therefore mustered out, and a 
new levy made ; but the delay proved well-nigh fatal to success. 
The Indians had retreated, the trail was lost, and pursuit seem- 




BLACK UAWIC 

ed a hopeless undertaking. In a council of war that was held, 
Captain Harney said : 

" The Indians have but one hiding place in the whole country, 
and it will not be very hard to find. If you will allow mo, Gen- 
eral, I will take fifty men and make a reconnoissance." 



458 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 

" Such a force would be too small," replied G-eneral Atkinson, 
shaking his head ; " the party would be in too great danger of 
being cut off. Take with you three hundred Pottawattomies." 

But the chief of the Pottawattomies refused to go. 

"Black Hawk got many warriors, he jump out from ambush 
and kill such few Indians and white men. Captain Harney he 
big fool to go without big army." 

With only the fifty men, and a few friendly Menominies, he 
started, only to be deserted, early on his journey, by all the In- 
dians except one, with whom he had once had a desperate en- 
counter, overcoming and disarming him. 

"Mestay with Captain Harney," said this whilom antagonist, 
with dignity ; " me stay and die with him." 

But Captain Harney's detachment soon returned to the main 
body with the intelligence that the Indians were retreating in a 
certain direction. Gen. Atkinson at once ordered a forced march, 
and it was not long before the Indians were found in a strong po- 
sition near the Wisconsin. Thence they continued their retreat 
towards the Mississippi, where they were again overtaken, not, 
however, to again escape without giving battle. Imj^etuously 
the American troops charged upon them, as the lofty courage of 
their leader urged them to deeds of desperate valor by his words 
and example. 

" For how can man die better 
Than when facing fearful odds 
Tor the ashes of his fathers, 
And the temples of his gods ? " 

So thought Black Hawk, as with total disregard of danger he 
cheered the sinking hearts of his warriors, driven from hill to 
hill, and making one last desperate stand on the river bank to 
defend themselves or die. Here the troops made a furious onset, 
and drove those who survived the attack into the river. Black 
Hawk fled up the river and concealed himself in the woods, 
where, two dixjs later, he was captured by the Sioux and deliv- 
ered to the whites. 

For several years after this battle of Bad Ax, which was the 
close of the Black Hawk war, we find no dangers overcome by 
our hero. The succeeding year (1833) is a memorable one in his 
life, marked, as it is, by his marriage to Miss Mullanphy, of St. 
Louis; and several promotions advance him to the rank of lieu- 
tenant-colonel of the Second Dragoons, recently organized. 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 459 

The long contest with the Florida Indians had begun. Here, 
in the dense forests and impenetrable swamps, lurked the Semi- 
noles, the "runaways" from all tribes. Dwelling with these 
were fugitive negro slaves, their usual good nature and servility 
to the white man transformed, by the oppression of brutal mas- 
ters, into the fiercest antipathy to the whole race. These were 
the tribes with whom Jackson had fought in 1818; these were 
the tribes that in 1835 had fallen upon Major Dade's detachment, 
as with all the precautions which even Indian warfare required, 
he marched to punish the savages who had committed such fre- 
quent outrages ; only two men survived to tell the tale of a dis- 
aster unparalleled for forty years. 

Here, in February, 1837, Col. Harney joined his regiment, 
reporting to Camp Monroe, then under the command of Col. Fan- 
ning. A comparison of commissions showed that Col. Harney 
was the senior officer, and therefore entitled to the honor; but 
in consideration of Col. Fanning's age, he waived his right. 
Having already seen service in Indian warfare, Col. Harney 
fully understood the value of constant vigilance. Unwilling to 
trust entirely to his subordinates, he made a reconnoissance in 
person, and discovered unmistakable signs that Indians were 
lurking in the neighborhood. Returning to camp, he advised 
Fanning that, as they would probably be attacked during the 
night, it would be well to throw up breastworks, which would 
give the raw recruits confidence, and prevent their becoming 
panic-stricken at the first fire. His suggestions were adopted, 
hasty fortifications made, and pickets j^osted in the direction from 
which the Indians would probably come, with strict orders to 
give the alarm immediately. The troops lay ready during the 
whole night, and early in the morning the alarm gun was heard 
and the pickets ran in. The men, whom the Indians had ex- 
pected to surprise, were in readiness, and sprang to the breast- 
works. A sharp contest ensued. At first the recruits fired 
almost aimlessly, but the boldness and vigor of Col. Harney soon 
inspired his men with that confidence necessary to a steady and 
effective fire, and after three hours' fighting, the Indians retreat- 
ed. Here and there on the field about the camp they found belts 
covered with blood, shot-pouches and scalping knives; but the 
savages had dragged away the bodies of their fallen comrades. 

The name of the camp was now changed to Fort Mellon, in 
memory of a gallant officer who had fallen in the fight, and Col. 



460 



GENERAL WILLIAM S, HARNEY. 



Harney was left in command. All his efforts were directed to- 
wards the successful prosecution of the war with as little loss as 
possible. To secure this much-desired result, the troops were 
kept in such constant action that hardly a sinG;le depredation was 




OSCEOLA, 

allowed to be committed on the inhabitants of the country, not a 
stalk of corn was allowed to grow anywhere but on the farms of 
the citizens. Unable to plant any corn in the swamps, whence 
no enemy but famine could drive them, many of the chiefs volun- 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 461 

tarily suri-endered themselves ; among them was Osceola, the 
m.oving spirit of the war. 

The chief, like all the Indian leaders, had ample cause for in- 
citing his people to war against the whites. The stern Puritans 
of the north and the chivalry of the south united in a treatment of 
the native lords of the soil that was only less bad than the brutal- 
ities of the Spaniard. France was the only country whose set- 
tlements in the New World were not founded on oppression and 
injustice, and the French colonists were seldom, if ever, molest- 
ed by the Indians. Osceola, the son of an English trader and 
a Seminole chiefs daughter, had married the daughter of another 
chief by an escaped slave-woman. The mother's owner claimed 
and seized the daughter as his slave, and the outraged husband 
threatened revenge. Imprisonment for his threats only added 
fuel to the flames, and on his release the war was opened by the 
murder of Gen. Thompson and four others, and the massacre of 
Major Dade and his party. 

A treaty was made, and according to its terms, the Indians 
prepared to remove to the reservation assigned to them. The 
frightened citizens returned to their homes, the recaptured slaves 
were restored to their owners, and it seemed that prosperity was 
about to succeed to the horrors of war. But as the Indians gath- 
ered at Fort Brooke, ready to embark, a spirit of home-sickness, 
a wild and uncontrollable longing for the moss-covered oaks and 
evergreens of the forest, seized upon them, and they fled away 
from the fort of the white man. Preparations were immediately 
made for recommencing the war; fortunately- the time thus con- 
sumed was the sickly summer season, when any campaign would 
have resulted in a great deal of sickness among the men. 

Osceola had not only broken the treaty himself, but had in- 
duced other tribes to do so. At a council, Osceola drew his knife 
and drove it into the table, saying, " The only treaty I will ex- 
ecute is with this." Gen. Jessup considered himself authorized, 
therefore, to seize as prisoners of war the chiefs who had met for 
conference with him under a flag of truce; a violation of all the 
established courtesies of war. There was but a handful of In- 
dians remaining in Florida, their negro allies having been re- 
claimed, and many of their bravest warriors killed in the previ- 
ous campaign ; they were surrounded by a complete cordon of 
military posts, and confronted by an enemy bent on their exter- 
mination. 



462 



GENERAL WlLElAiM S. HAfeNEY. 



The aim of Gen. Jessiip was to completely surround the Indians, 
and close the circle gradually. To the point of danger in this 
line, because the one where the Seminoles were most likely to 
attempt to break through, Col. Harney was assigned; and it was 
only by the negligence of other officers that a few escaj)ed at 
other points. Active hostilities began early in January, 1838, 
with a sharp and active engagement in which Gen. Nelson com- 
manded the whites. 
Later, a naval officer 
was so severely de- 
feated, that it was all 
his men could do to 
legain their boats. 
Gen. Jessup with a 
stronger force moved 
upon them at the same 
point, but Gen. Eustis, 
who was in immediate 
command, had so dis- 
posed his forces that 
the dragoons under 
Col. Harney could ren- 
der no effective service 
to the others, and at 
the first attack the 
Americans were repul- 
sed by a murderous 
fire. Ccl. Harney had 
m the meantime pene- 
trated to the flank and 
rear of the enemy. Gen. 
Jessup took command and rallied his men, and the combined 
attack proved more successful. Col. Harney's request that he 
might be allowed to pursue them, was granted, but a severe 
rainstorm caused the commander to withdraw the permission. 
Sent the next day with two companies to follow the Indians, 
Col. Harney found their camp abandoned; they had fled to the 
everglades, inaccessible to the soldiery. Eeturning with this in- 
formation, he urged upon the commander the desirability of send- 
ing for the Indians, as they would probably desire to treat now, 
after the punishment that had been inflicted. This advice, most 




TREATY OF AVAR. 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 463 

worthy of consideration, was adojDted by the general, who sent 
a messenger to the Indians, offering terms of j^eace. Many 
of the officers urged uiDon Gen. Jessuj) the necessity of termina- 
ting the war by allowing the Seminoles to retain a part of the 
counti'y ; but he would only offer such terms on condition of the 
approval of the government. Many of the Indian chiefs sur- 
rendered, with followers to the number of two thousand, and 
again the war seemed to be at an end. 

The government refused to ratify this arrangement, and the 
subsequent action of Gen. Jessup looked to the untutored savages 
very much like a breach of faith. He had violated the security 
of a flag of truce, and Osceola had died in prison ; he had de- 
coyed them from their fastnesses, only to hold them as captives. 
Having thus lost all confidence in the whites, the Seminoles, 
always reckless of danger for themselves when it was possible to 
inflict injury upon their enemies, harried and burned and slew 
whenever the presence of soldiery did not prevent. 

Colonel Harney, ivith his dismounted dragoons, was sent after 
Sam Jones, one of the principal chiefs, and pursued him into his 
hunting grounds by forced marches made at night. He succeed- 
ed in surprising the Indians, and put them to rout, but they fled 
into the swamps, whither the troops could not follow them. As 
they pursued the flying savages, one of the soldiers shot a squaw, 
mistaking her, in the confusion, for a warrior. Greatly distressed 
at this injury inflicted upon a woman, they did everything in 
their power to relieve her. At a loss what to do with her. Col. 
Harney made the suggestion that, if they left her, her friends 
would come after her in the night. It was proposed to lie in wait 
near by, and capture those who should come, but Col. Harney 
declared that those who came on such a mission of humanity 
should have safe conduct. The chief and the woman's husband 
came and visited her that night, taking her away the next, but 
though Sam Jones was such a temjoting prize, Col. Harney -re- 
strained his men from molesting them. The woman recovered, 
and when several months afterward the tribe was met by Col. 
Harney and his command on terms of peace, she displayed con- 
siderable gratitude towards those who had acted in a manner 
better agreeing with their professed Christianity than the whites 
generally used towards the savages. 

Gen. Jessup was soon after recalled from Florida and sent to 
the Cherokee country; Gen. Macomb, the commander-in-chief, 



464 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 

repairing in person to the seat of war. Arriving in Florida, and 
establishing his headquarters on Black Creek, he immediately 
sent for Col. Harney. The plans which that oflficer had suggested, 
and upon which Gen. Jessup had acted, were laid before him, 
and Col. Harney marked out the reservation which would con- 
tent the Indians, who were committing all sorts of depredations 
and murders. 

" A settlement can be made with them, if I can only be assured 
that the government will keep faith ; but they have been de- 
ceived, and are suspicious of the promises of the War Depart- 
ment. I cannot undertake to deceive them myself, and unless I 
can be assured that the treaty, when made, will be observed by 
our own people, I can do nothing." 

Gren. Macomb had instructions to pacify the Indians, and to 
make arrangements for them to remain in the country. Satisfied 
at this. Col. Harney's influence got a number of chiefs together, 
who were induced by the respect in which they held him, to 
make an_amicable arrangement. But the depredations continued. 
Some of the chiefs repudiated this treaty, some never assented 
to it. The people of Florida were not satisfied with it, and while 
the assurance of the Secretary of War was that it was only a tem- 
porary measure, calculated to quiet their remonstrances, it only 
inflamed the passions of the Seminoles. Col. Harney was thus 
shown to be as unreliable as any of the others, and his reputa- 
tion for truth and honor existed no more among the deceived 
and betrayed Indians of Florida. 

As soon as the treaty had been made. Gen. Macomb directed 
Col. Harney to select a suitable site for a trading-house, to be 
built in the reservation. Selecting a point on the Coloosahatchie 
Eiver, fifteen miles above the mouth, he left there thirty dis- 
mounted dragoons, while he went on to Gen. Taylor's headquar- 
ters on Tampa Bay. Gen, Macomb had verbally authorized him 
to call upon this ofiicer for two companies to protect the house, 
but Gen. Taylor refused to let him have any troops. Calling at 
the site on the Coloosahatchie as he returned, he found every- 
thing progressing admirably, the Indians appearing perfectly 
contented. But while he was on the way from Tampa, the Sec- 
retary's letter had arrived, sajnng that the treaty was only tem- 
porary. In some mysterious way, the Indians had heard of it, 
and swift runners spread the news among all the tribes before it 
had been sent to the whites. 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 465 

It was then, without arousing any suspicion in the mind of the 
officer, that the afterwards famous chief Billy Bowlegs came 
aboard the boat, and told him that the chiefs wished to see him 
before he left. Never guessing what news had come from Wash- 
ington, he concluded to land, and spend the night on shore in 
his tent. The next day he went hunting, returning about nine 
o'clock, tired out. Taking off his coat and boots, he lay down, 
intending to rest a little and then get up to see how the sergeant 
in command had posted his sentinels. But he fell asleep, to be 
awakened at daylight by the firing of guns, the yelling of In- 
dians, and shouts of, " Eun to the water !" in the familiar voices 
of his own men. 

Seeing that his men, standing up to their necks in the water, 
were wholly unarmed, he knew that he could not helj? them, and 
determined to save himself. Eunning down the river about a 
quarter of a mile, every thought bent to the planning of an escape, 
he walked into the river a few paces, then backward up the 
bank, so as to make the Indians think that two men had been 
drowned at that point. 

In the mean time the men in the river had been induced to sur- 
render, and were massacred as soon as they left the water, only 
a small party escaping in a trading boat. They then proceeded 
to the colonel's tent, and their yell of disappointment rang in his 
ears as he plunged into the brush. Following his trail, they 
found the point where he had walked into the water, and con- 
cluding that he and some companion had preferred drowning to 
falling into their hands, gave up the search. He had not proceed- 
ed far when a man was seen coming towards him, and, thinking 
it was an Indian, he drew his pocket-knife, the only weapon he 
had, and prepared for defense ; but the supposed Indian was one 
of his own dragoons who had watched him from the river, and 
had not surrendered with his comrades. 

Over the mangrove roots and sour-grass that lacerated his un- 
protected feet, until the dragoon, Britton, gave him his shoes, un- 
der the burning, vertical rays of a July sun in Florida, blacking 
their faces with the charred wood left by camp-fires which they 
passed, so that they might be better disguised, they strained 
every nerve to get to a certain point fifteen miles away. Now and 
then their route led them to the river bank. The thii'd time that 
they approached it, Britton heard a voice on the river. Sending 
the dragoon down the stream, Col. Harney ascended it, to look 



466 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 

for the Indians. Britton soon reported that they were coming; 
he had seen a canoe with some one in it — of course, Seminoles. 
"Britton, can you fight?" 




BILLY BOWLEGS. 



"I will die with you, Colonel." 

" There seem to be two Indians. Do not let one get behind 
me while I am fiirhtino: with the other. I can soon overcome 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 467 

and kill one, and then will be ready for the second. Where are 
they?" 

" Under that wild fig-tree." 

"I will go now. Be sure and keep a sharp look-out." 

Arriving at the point indicated, with so stealthy a step as not 
to alarm the children of the forest, he planted one foot firmly 
upon the ground, the other upon the shell bank, ready to leap 
upon them. Raising himself, he saw the canoe — his own, con- 
taining only a harpoon and the paddles. Calling Britton to him 
by a yell of triumph, and instructing him in paddling the canoe, 
they soon overtook those of his men who had escaped in the boat. 
To them he announced his intention of going back to the camp, 
to see what had become of his force, and they volunteered to ac- 
company him. With seven men, he returned that night to as- 
certain who had been the killed. Leaving two men in the 
boat, W' ith five men and two guns he proceeded to the camp, where 
they looked into the faces of their comrades, ghastly with death 
in the light of the moon. Counting the dead, they found all there 
but five, and shouted to call these to them. They afterwards learn- 
ed that two heard the shouts, but thought it merely an Indian ruse 
to draw them from their hiding places. Col. Harney, knowing 
that the Indians had taken two barrels of whiskey in the stores, 
wished to avenge his murdered men, sure that a surprise would 
result in victory ; but his men were unwilling to take a new risk, 
and the little party returned to headquarters. 

Colonel Harney was as yet ignorant of the reason for this at- 
tack, only learning of the Secretary's letter when he arrived at 
Florida Bay. The news of the attack and massacre spread rap- 
idly over Florida, and produced the most profound sensation, 
leading to hostilities of the bloodiest kind. Yet the Secretary, 
whose faithlessness was the cause of this, was retained in the 
cabinet, his conduct unquestioned. By his orders, blood-hounds 
were imported to hunt down the Indians. Less cruel than the 
men who set them on, "they were found to be perfectly useless." 

With the campaign between November, 1839, and May, 1840, 
we have nothing to do, as Col. Harney was on sick leave in Cuba, 
being threatened with consumption. Little of importance oc- 
curred between the time of the massacre of the Coloosahatchie 
(July, 1839) and the last month of the succeeding year; a series 
of scenes of petty bloodshed on both sides filled up the measure 

of the days. 

30 



468 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 

In December, 1840, Col. Harney was ordered to proceed to the 
everglades and attack the Spanish Indians, of whom Chaikika 
was the chief. Here, in a vast expanse of water varying in depth 
from one to five feet, and covered with an almost impenetrable 
saw-grass, except for the channels which extended in every direc- 
tion, dotted with innumerable islands, it was supposed that many 
of the Indians had their headquarters. This suspicion had been 
confirmed by the account of a negro man named John, who had 
been captured by them in 1835, and had but recently escaped. 
Col. Harney, with a force of ninety men in boats, and John as a 




IN THE EVERGLADES. 



guide, penetrated into the heart of this wilderness. John led 
them directly to the island where the Indians were encamped — 
the band of Chaikika, who had been the chief commanding the 
party that massacred the dragoons at Coloosahatchie. 

The chief was chopping wood at a short distiince from his people 
when the soldiers approached. Discovering the presence of the 
enemy he dropped his axe and ran for the high grass. Two or 
three soldiers started in pursuit, but only one proved able to keep 
up with him. This was Hall, the same man who had shot the 
squaw by mistake. Finding that escape was hopeless, and being 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 469 

unarmed, he turned, and threw up his arms in token of surren- 
der. The mercy he had dealt to those who surrendered at Co- 
loosahatchie was shown to him. Hall sent a bullet into his brain, 
and he fell lifeless into the water. Two thousand dollars' worth 
of stolen goods were identified, and thirteen revolvers belonging 
to Harney's massacred dragoons. Nine of the warriors were 
hanged, the tenth reserved for use in the future as a guide. 

This was virtually the end of the Seminole war, protracted 
through eight years, at the cost of millions of dollars and many 
lives. This contest baffled the military skill of the ablest gener- 
als. Col. Harney's services were, beyond question, more efficient 
than those of any other officer in the field. The Indians always 
had most respect and esteem for the man who was most successful 
in contending with them, and Col. Harney was the only man 
upon whose word they would rely. 

For a period of several years we take leave of him. During 
this time Texas, an independent republic, had laid aside her sov- 
ereign loneliness at the invitation of the Congress of the United 
States, and become one of the man}^ Mexico had never admit- 
ted the independence of Texas ; the action of the United States 
was, therefore, regarded as a breach of the treaty between the 
two nations, and the Mexican war ensued. 

Col. Harney was stationed at San Antonio with six regiments 
of dragoons, when, in the winter of 1845-6, he learned that the 
Mexicans were assembling on the Eio Grande, west of San An- 
tonio. He determined to push forward, to reconnoiter and to 
protect the frontier, and collected a force of se"\jen hundred men. 
His officers suggested that they had no cannon, and proposed 
sending to Victoria for two j^ieces ; but this would cause too 
much loss of time. 

"Have the Mexicans any artilleiy?" inquired Col. Harney. 

''They have field-pieces and ordnance of excellent character, 
sir," replied an officer readil}^, glad to break the argument by 
such facts. 

"Well, then, we will go and take them; they will suit me ex- 
actly." 

Advancing to within fifteen miles of the Eio Grande, a recon- 
noissance in person revealed that the Mexican troops had gone; 
crossing the river, he occupied Presidio, and wished to move 
upon Monterey, but the unanimous opposition of his officers 
forged him to abandon this plan. On his way back to San An- 



470 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 

tonio, he was met by two orders from Gen. "Wool, then in com- 
mand ; the first, desiring him to return to San Antonio immedi- 
ately; the second, placing him tinder arrest, and giving his com- 
mand to another officer. Gen. Wool explained that the latter 
order had been issued because the people of San Antonio had 
assured him that Colonel Harney would not obey the first. 

Promoted to the full rank of colonel the last of June, 1846, he 
and Brig. -Gen. Shields, with a guard of only fifteen men, set out 
to report to Gen. Taylor at Matamoras, where the Mexicans had 
met with a signal defeat in May at the hands of that officer. The 
perils and difficulties of the journey cannot be exaggerated: 
through a country full of enemies, marching all one day without 
water, the escort was so scanty that it was a most hazardous un- 
dertaking. They reached Monterey only to find Col. Harney 
placed under the command of Gen. Wool, who had exposed him 
to the indignity of an arrest in San Antonio. 

Sent with his dragoons to the front, Col. Harney made a re- 
connoissance, and failing to find the enemy, returned to the post 
assigned. Here, as he and his officers were indulging in festiv- 
ities after their tiresome day, a courier arrived with a despatch 
from Gen. Wool, ordering his immediate return, as the enemy 
was advancing. Reading the despatch to his officers, and know- 
ing the general had received false information, he bivouacked for 
the night, and on the following day, falling back upon the main 
body, rej)orted to Gen. Wool. In reply to that officer's reproach- 
es for his tardiness in obeying orders, he said : 

" I knew that you had received false information, sir. If 5^ou 
had inquired of me, I could have told you, from my own know- 
ledge, that there was no enemy." 

He was soon afterward transferred to Gen. Taylor's command. 
Gen. Scott's old jealousy of Gen. Jackson showed itself in an at- 
tempt to deprive Col. Harney of his command, he having been 
an especial protege of "Old Hickory;" but foiled in this, he 
could not but admit that it was a gallant soldier and a good offi- 
cer that he M^ould have injured. His conduct at Madellin and the 
more important Cerro Gordo won for him the commendation of 
Scott, and the rank of Brevet Brigadier-General. Present at the 
taking of Mexico, and performing valuable services during the 
entire war, when peace was at last declared he was stationed with 
his regiment at San Antonio. He remained in Texas, with occa- 
sional short leaves of absence, until July, 1854, when a leave grant- 



General William s. harney. 



4?1 



ed for two years permitted him to visit his family, who had lived 
for some years in Europe, while the husband and father had been 
serving his country in its wars. 

Although our right to annex Texas had been vindicated, the 
country was not to be left in peace. The disturbing element was 
the same that kept the earliest settlers on the Atlantic coast al- 
ways prepared for a combat, that has made itself a name of ter- 
ror to the far western prairies — the Indians. As usual, the cause 
of this war was the injustice and oppression of the white man, 
revenged by the cruelty of the red man. 

A party of emigrants to California, passing the Big Platte, 
about thirty miles below Fort Laramie, left a cow, that had giv- 
en out, in charge of the Bois Brules. Buffaloes were not to be 
found by the hunters, and the agents of the U. S. Government 
had failed to furnish them with the usual supplies j but they had 
no thought of violating that trust, even to prevent the starvation 
of the tribe. Even when a visit 
from a neighboring chief awak- 
ened all their sense of hospital- 
ity, they explained to him that 
their own meager rations would 
not permit a great feast of wel- 
come. The Ogallala chief said 
that he had seen a white buffalo 
( a cow) on the prairies, but ap- 
peared satisfied on learning the 
facts of the case. He and his war- 
riors would go out on a hunt, 
said the visitor; and strangely 
enough, the game that they brought in was the carcass of the 
white buffalo. 

The owner of the cow sent in a bill for it to Fort Laramie, and 
received payment from the officer in command ; who immediate- 
ly despatched a force of thirty men, under the command of a 
lieutenant, to demand the warrior who had killed the cow. 
Drunk when they arrived at the village, it is hardly probable 
that this demand was made in a manner calculated to ensure its 
admission by the Indians. 

" The Ogallala chief is in the village of the Bois Brules, and 
they cannot give him up to his enemies. But he has behaved 
badly, and you can take him ; that is his lodge." 




GKX. Wl^XI'lELB S. SCOTT. 



472 GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 

"No, you must bring him here/* insisted the officer, with 
drunken dignity. 

" The Indian does not give up tlie friend who is in his lodge, 
and Black Beaver's people would kill him if he did so." 

But the hospitality of the desert met with no recognition here, 
and the order was given to fire. Black Beaver was killed, but 
his death was speedily avenged by that of the lieutenant, his 
interpreter, and all the detachment but one man ; who, found 
wounded, was taken into the lodge of a warrior and nursed back 
to health. Such was the beginning of the war in which the whole 
Sioux tribe took up the quarrel of their kinsmen, the Bois Brules. 

In such a state of affairs, the most distinguished Indian fighter 
in the army could not well be spared, and Gen. Harney was re- 
called before one quarter of the two years had passed. Leaving 
Paris on Christmas Eve, 1854, he reported in Washington. 

" G-en. Harney," said President Pierce, " you have done so 
much that I will not order you, but I do wish you would con- 
sent to assume the command and'whij) the Indians for us." 

Proceeding to the west, as soon as he reached the Indian coun- 
try he received a message from the Sioux chief, Little Thunder, 
saying that he would either shake hands Avith him or fight. But 
Gen. Harney had already reached a position commanding the 
Indian village, and even the personal pleading of the chief did 
not secure peace without punishment for robbing the mails and 
killing emigrants. 

Seventy-two savages fell in the attack which followed, in 
which only four white men were killed. Soon forced to retreat, 
the Indians were allowed to make their escape, since they were 
encumbered with their women and children. 

One most important assistant in guarding the camp from attack 
was Gen. Harney's veteran charger. Buncombe, who had seen 
severe service in the Mexican war, and who now learned to detect 
the presence of a wolf, a buffalo or an Indian near the camp ; giv- 
ing an invariably correct alarm, and in many cases saving the 
lives of the men. He could distinguish between the intruders, 
and would stamp harder and oftener, and snort more loudly, if 
it were an Indian, than if it were a buffalo or a wolf. 

The decisive victory gained over Little Thunder awed the 
Sioux into submission, and a five days' conference with the chiefs 
of all but two bands resulted in a treaty. Chiefs and sub-chiefs 
were recognized, and arrangements made for the government of 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY. 473 

the tribe, so as to secure the blessings of peace to both the Indians 
and the whites. The Sioux stood to their promises, and held to 
the obligations that the treaty imposed upon them, even after 
the government showed that it had no intention of keeping 
faith with them. 

His instructions forbade him to do more, although the bands 
not represented were somewhat turbulent, and challenged him to 
meet them on the war-path ; and he returned to St. Louis. The 
removal of the remnant of the Seminoles still lingering in the 
swamps and everglades of Florida next occupied his time, and 
in May, 1857, he was ordered to Kansas, where a delicate and im- 
portant duty required all his firmness and sagacity. This was to 
keep the peace which the politicians seemed determined to break 
— a strange duty, it seems, for a soldier, occurring under a com- 
bination of circumstances equally strange. But his services in 
Kansas, and those immediately afterwards in Utah, do not pre- 
sent points of special interest to any but the historians of those 
states. 

Ordered to Oregon earl}^ in the fall of 1858, he procured the 
appointment of Father de Smet as chaplain to his force. This 
eminent Jesuit had been a missionary among the Fiat Heads and 
kindred tribes around the Columbia and its branches, and not only 
possessed considerable influence over them, but perhaps knew 
the country and disposition of the tribes better than any one 
else ; so that he was invaluable to this expedition. 

The California Indians had been hostile for some time, and 
there had been several skirmishes, when Gen. Clarke, then in 
command, invited them to a council. Eefusing to surrender their 
privileges, they were thus addressed by Major Key: 

" The great war-chief, General Harney, who is known among 
all the tribes for his success among them, is on his way here ; 
and if you do not accede to the terms which we propose, he 
will make war upon you, so that you will be glad to accept even 
harder conditions." 

When Gen. Harney arrived at Fort Vancouver, he found that 
many of the tribes had sued for peace, and treaties had been made 
with them. The turbulent Indians had fled to the Flat Heads, 
and Gen. Harney concluded to demand their surrender. In many 
instances they were promptly given up, but in other cases there 
was more delay. So completely had the Indians been pacified, 
through the good offices of Father de Smet, and the active and 



474 General william s. harney. 

efficient measures of Gren. Harney, that no disturbances followed. 
His perfect knowledge of Indian character, and his wisdom in 
adapting his plan of action to the enemy with whom he had to 
deal, secured him a greater degree of success than any officer as- 
signed to duty on the frontier. His one rule in intercourse with 
them, never broken, was to keep faith ; and the wisdom of this 
was endorsed by the experience of Father de Smet. 

He was recalled from Oregon in July, 1860, and ordered to St. 
Louis, whence, in April, 1861, he proceeded to Washington. Made 
the first prisoner of war, and strongly urged to join the Confed- 
erate Army by many old acquaintances, his journey to Washing- 
ton was a series of ovations to the great war-chief of the West. 

On his return to St. Louis, again invested with the command 
here, he bent every energy to the task of pacification; believing 
that there was no necessity for a single gun to be fired in the 
state, and resolved that none should be while he could prevent 
it. But he had hardly arrived in the city before the order came 
depriving him of his command, and giving him leave of absence 
until further orders. The further orders never came, and his 
name is still upon the retired list. The pretext for this action was 
his connection with those who leaned towards the Confederate 
States, but no evidence exists to show that, while he remained 
in command, he was anything but a faithful servant of the coun- 
try for which he had done so much. Forty-two years he had 
spent in active service, the greater part of the time being on the 
frontier, among the Indians. 

Appointed a member of the Indian Peace Commission in 1865. 
he visited the savages, for the last time, on the waters of the Platte 
and the Black Hills country. It is a touching tribute to his rep- 
utation among the Indians, that while engaged in this work, an 
elderly Indian woman came up to him, and shaking his hand earn- 
estly, said : 

" You were a friend of my father." 

Who her father was, or where Gen. Harney had known him, 
could not be ascertained; but that is unnecessary to the beauty 
of the incident; it might have been a tyj^ical Indian, for to the 
fathers of many of the present generation he had indeed been a 
friend. 



CHAPTER XYIII. 



GENEEAL GEOEGE A. CUSTEE. 

WHEN a man has achieved success in any direction, we are 
always desirous of knowing how far his boyhood and 
youth gave promise of the future. It is with a feeling of gratifica- 
tion that we learn that such a novelist delighted his schoolmates 
by the stories he related to them ; that such a historian almost de- 
stroyed his sight by his close application; that such a ruler of men 
so governed circumstances, that from a canal-boy he became pres- 
ident; that such a general gave promise of his future excellence 
as a soldier by his rank at West Point. After a while, however, 
the story becomes monotonous, and it is with equal gratification 
that we turn to the eminent scholar who, in boyhood, was es- 
teemed a dunce, to the successful general who was not in the first 
rank at the Military Academy. 

Born in Ohio, in the latter part of 1839, George Armstrong 
Custer's early life was like that of many an American boy, born 
and raised in the country. At school in the winter, rarely fail- 
ing to have his lessons creditably prepared in^pite of the mili- 
tary novel often opened under his geography; at work on his 
father's farm in the summer; accompanying an elder sister, re- 
cently married, to Michigan, then but sparsely settled; full of 
life and fun, yet never quarrelsome; of the gentlest and most 
lovable disposition : such is the record of his boyhood. Early 
imbued with a passion for a soldier's life, he was not yet seven- 
teen when he determined to go to West Point. No influence 
aided him in his endeavors, and nothing came of them the first 
time; but a personal interview with the congressman, to whom 
he had written, resulted in his appointment the following year. 

The discipline at the Military Academy seems to outsiders un- 
necessarily strict. A trifling dereliction from duty is an unpar- 
donable offense ; a failure to black one's boots at the proper 
moment necessitates an afternoon's guard duty; while a neglect 



476 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 

of lessons for a visit to Benny Havens' cabin is no worse — it can 
not be. Saturday afternoon is time for recreation, but the poor 
delinquents must spend it '' walking their extras." For offenses 
not great, but making up in number what they lacked in enorm- 
ity, sixty-six Saturdaj'S were thus spent by Cadet Custer during 
his four years' course ; and when every examination was passed 
and only the order from Washington was needed to transform 
the cadets into officers, the ranking of the class of thirty-four 
showed thirty-three above him. " My career as a cadet," said 
he, as a soldier, " had but little to commend it to the study of 
those who came after me, unless as an example to be carefully 
avoided." 

A sinjile instance will be enoui^h to show the character of his 
offenses against military law. It was in 1861, after the examin- 
ations were passed, when they were only waiting to be assigned 
each to the particular branch of the service for which he was best 
fitted, that Cadet Custer was performing the duties of officer of the 
the guard ; an honor bestowed only once on each one during his 
four years' course. At dark he heard a commotion near the 
guard tents, at some distance from the main camp, and hastened 
towards the place indicated by the uproar. In the midst of a con- 
siderable group were two cadets noisily disputing with each 
other; hardly had he arrived when they began a pitched battle 
with tlveir fists. Prudent bystanders attempted to separate them, 
and the officer of the guard ought to have assisted them, and sent 
the two combatants to the guard tents for breaking the peace and 
the rules at the same time. He did nothing of the kind : push- 
ing his way into the centre of the group, he dashed back the 
would-be peacemakers with the words : 

" Stand back, boys ; let's have a fair fight." 
Unfortunatel}', his enthusiasm for a " fair fight" was witness- 
ed by two officers of the army, one of whom was the officer of 
the day ; they did not seem to appreciate his soldierly instinct as 
the proper thing, and he was placed under arrest. 

Only a few hours after this arrived the order from Washington, 
directing the members of his class to report to the adjutant-general 
for further orders; but he was detained. Arraigned before a 
court-martial "with all the solemnity and gravity which might 
be looked for in a trial for high treason," his comrades who had 
preceded him to Washington set influential fi'iends to work, and 
secured an order for his release. 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 477 

The cadets were soon scattered over the country to different 
commands, and the comparative play of West Point life was suc- 
ceeded by the realities of "war's stern alarums." Fort Sumter 
had been fired upon, the hosts were marshalling on each side of 
Mason and Dixon's line, and the chance which every young 
officer longs for was at hand. 

Active service awaited the recent graduates from the Acad- 
emy, for not only had the army been enormously increased, but 
many of the officers had resigned and joined the enemy. Rapid 
promotion was secured by merit, and Custer confided to some of 
his comrades that he was determined to be a general before the 
war was over. It was an incautious admission, received bj^^ 
many Avith ill-natured sarcasm. What was determination against 
such odds as confronted this friendless lieutenant. 

Chosen b}^ General Scott, immediately upon his reporting at 
Washington, to carry certain dispatches to Gen. McClellan, he 
wondered at his own good luck in thus being brought face to 
face with the two officers. 

But his dispatches were received by an aide, and he failed to 
see the favorite general of the times. Assigned to a cavalry 
regiment, he witnessed the first battle of Bull Run, in which 
that branch of the service did but little work. We hear little of 
him for nearly a year ; true, he volunteered to lead a charge at 
Williamsburg, which cost Early four hundred men. This was 
in May, 1862 ; on the 22nd of that month the Federal army 
had halted on the banks of the Chickahominy, and the chief 
engineer. Gen. Barnard, was commissioned tP find out whether 
that river was fordable. 

As that doughty old general was riding away from head- 
quarters, he saw a slouchy, shabbily dressed young officer, with 
long bright hair, lounging about, and beckoned to him. Who he 
might be, the general did not know nor care ; he merely wanted 
an assistant. 

Passing through the picket line, general and subaltern made 
their way through the brush to the river. The general's orders 
were briefly given ; the subordinate was to ford the river and 
find out what could be seen on the other side. As they had been 
informed that the enemy's pickets were stationed in the brush 
across the stream, this was no child's play to thus "beard the 
lion in his den," as it were. 

Nothing but implicit obedience was possible, even if the sub- 



478 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 

ordinate would have owned to fear; and he waded across the 
black water, sometimes sinking nearly to his armpits. Once on 
the other side, he peered through the brush and saw the enemy's 
camp and the position of the pickets. The necessary details 
were sought, and he obeyed the signals of his superior and re- 
turned. The grim old engineer gave a curt approval, and bade 
the unknown young soldier follow him to headquarters for fur- 
ther orders. 

McClellan and his staff, trim and neat, were just about to ride 
out to visit the different positions, when the two rode up, the 
younger man slipping away at the very first opportunity ; Chick- 
ahominy mud had by no means improved his personal appear- 
ance. Gen. Barnard made his report, that the river was ford- 
able at such a point; then it came out that he had not forded it 
himself, but some one, he didn't know who, had done it. That 
some one was at once sought for, questioned and listened to with 
earnest attention. 

"1 have been on the outlook for just such a young officer as 
yourself, Mr. Custer, for some time," said the commander, when 
the enemy's camp, as had been visible to Custer from the oppo- 
site river bank, had been described ; " will you accept a posi- 
tion on my staff?" 

In this way, Lieut. Custer, of the Pifth Cavalry, became Capt. 
Custer,of Gen. McCIellan's staff ; only to be reduced to his form- 
er rank when his beloved general was retired from the command. 
Nor was this all; for months he was simply awaiting orders; 
then he accepted a position on Gen, Pleasanton's staff ; later still 
came his golden opportunity. 

When Lee, changing to the offensive, began the northerly 
movement which was finally checked at Gettysburg, the greatest 
consternation prevailed among the people of the threatened dis- 
trict. At first his purpose was not clearly understood, but as it 
became clear, the Federal forces began the pursuit. June 16th, 
1863, a portion of the cavalry of the two armies met at Aldie, 
Virginia. By slow degrees this branch of the service in the Fed- 
eral armj^ had attained efficiency. At first regarded as merely 
for scouting and similar purposes, they had won no battles; and 
it seemed on this June day they were again to justify Hooker's 
taunt : " Who ever saw a dead cavalryman ?" 

The Federals charged down the road, Stuart was repulsed for 
the moment, and Kilpatrick brought another regiment to the 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 



479 




ajINERAL OEOROE A. CUSTER. 



480 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 

assistance of the first. But the fiery Southerners had not yet 
known defeat, and advanced again upon the enemy. The Federals 
wavered, the men were mostly raw recruits, and the situation a 
trying one. Cols. Kilpatrick and Douty rode forward, com- 
manding, imploring their men to follow. There was no response 
but confusion. Forward from the broken ranks dashed Custer, 
his long bright hair streaming over his shoulders. Waving his 
sword, he shouted: 

" Come on, boys !" 

Clear as a bugle-note his voice rang out above the turmoil; 
and only the clatter of hoofs and a wild enthusiastic shout answer- 
ed as they followed the new leader. Onward rode the three, still 
in advance of the others. A moment more, and Col. Douty fell ; 
Col. Kilpatrick was dismounted • still Custer rode onward. 
Closer and closer they drew to the enemy. Before long it was a 
hand-to-hand combat; and then Stuart's cavalry was fairly de- 
feated. 

The fury and heat of the battle were over, and Capt. Custer re- 
turned to his duties as staff-officer in a time of comparative quiet. 
Several days afterward, he returned to camp after a long day's 
ride. Entering the large tent where his brother aides were chat- 
ting and smoking, the group of officers seemed unusually hilar- 
ious ; a repetition of the frequent chaff on the subject of his ambi- 
tion greeted him : 

" Hallo, general!" 

" Pretty tired, general ?" 

" Gentlemen, General Custer !" 

"How are you, general?" 

"Allow me to congratulate j'^ou, general," with a low bow. 

" You're looking well, general." 

With his blue eyes flashing with anger which he could hardly 
control, he replied, with some bitterness in response to the re- 
lentless teasing : 

" Laugh as much as you please, but I will be a general yet, for 
all your chaff. See if I'm not, that's all." 

He looked around the group of mischievous faces; if one 
smile were a shade more malicious than the others, with that 
man he would quarrel ; but none excelled. There was a friend- 
ly hand on his shoulder, a quiet voice in his ear : 

"Look on the table, old fellow; they're not chaffing you this 
time," 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 481 

It "was Captain Yates, afterward one of the officers of the Sev- 
enth Cavalry-c Custer turned to the table; and there, in the 
midst of the papers, lay a large official envelope addressed to 
" Brigadier-General G-eorge A. Custer, U. S. Vols." Gen. Pleas- 
anton had sent in the names of five officers for promotion, but 
Custer had never dreamed that his dash and daring had already 
won him the coveted star of a brigadier, thus early in the war 
and in his career. 

His rapid promotion did not endear him to his brother officers, 
over whose heads he stepped ; but before he had led that brig- 
ade twice into battle, his men were ready to die for him. To 
many an old soldier's eye the picture is still vivid : the tall, 
lithe form of the young officer, clad in trousers and loose jacket 
of velveteen, the sleeves of the latter garment nearly covered 
with the gold lace which he used to indicate his rank; the broad 
falling collar of his blue shirt ornamented with a silver star ; a 
low-crowned, broad-brimmed soft felt hat sat upon the flowing 
golden curls; a flaming red necktie giving whatever else of col- 
or was needed ; in short, it must be confessed he was the dandy 
general of the army. 

Through the war we need not follow him. " Custer's luck" 
was the envy of his comrades; he knew how to seize the golden 
opportunities that they let slip. His men rebelled at being com- 
manded by a " boy-general;" not openly, of course ; but sullen 
discontent was plainly written on their faces. But at Gettysburg 
he led them in a charge; they were victorious; and idolized 
their young commander from that day forth. . 

Nor did he attain the lowest grade only of the coveted rank ; 
in little more than a year after his nomination as a brigadier, he 
was brevetted major-general and placed in command of the 
Third Cavalry Division. 

Four years of hard fighting, and the war was over, Gen. Custer 
receiving the first flag of truce that was sent by Gen. Lee. The 
whole country had been eager and anxious, and now that the 
end had been definitely decided, the heroes must bo welcomed 
with ovations, crowned with laurels. The Army of the Potomac 
was ordered to the capitol, there to pass in review before the 
President of the United States — not him, alas! to whom that 
title had belonged during the whole of the war; for him their 
banners were shrouded in mourning, dark as the smoke of the 
battlefield. 



482 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 

But despite the torn and shaded flags, it was a grand spec- 
tacle — that host of war-worn veterans. Foremost in the line of 
parade rode Custer, the most striking figure that could have 
been selected for the position. 

As he approached the President's stand, a sudden burst of 
music filled the air; and the voices of three hundred young girls 
bade " Hail to the Chief." Nor was this all. Each white-robed 
maiden bore a bouquet or wreath, and these fell in a perfect 
shower upon the gallantyoung Adonis. As, laughing at the mimic 
missiles, he tried to catch the flowers, his spirited horse took 
fright; like a shot he went along the broad avenue. As he pass- 
ed the President's stand, he endeavored to salute; but his sabre 
caught in his wide hat, and both fell to the ground. Then with 
his long bright hair floating in the wind, he settled himself in 
the saddle ; in a moment, mind had triumphed over matter, and 
his charger once more under perfect control, he dashed back to 
to the head of his column. He had "witched the world with 
noble horsemanship," and " Custer's luck" had made him the 
best remembered, most talked of figure of the day; he was al- 
ready better known than many much older generals. 

There was no farther use for the volunteers ; the army must be 
reduced to a peace footing. Regiment after regiment was mus- 
tered out, those oifcers who had been civilians returned to their 
homes, while the old army officers, stripped of the rank in connec- 
tion with this corps, were reduced to their former station. Major 
General Custer of the Volunteers became Captain Custer of the 
Fifth Cavalry. The organization of the Seventh Cavalry in July, 
1866, gave him a commission as lieutenant-colonel ; and this was 
his actual rank for the next ten years. 

We need not dwell upon his desire to go to Mexico, in those 
last days of the unfortunate Maximilian. A few months after the 
organization of the regiment it was detailed for frontier duty. 
Accordingly we find him at Fort Riley, in command of his regi- 
ment, since the colonel was department chief. Recruits came 
from the large towns, enlisting with the desire of shirking every 
duty they could, and intending to desert when they got tired. 
These must be transformed from raw recruits to veterans and 
heroes. 

The Indians saw that before the iron horse the buff'alo must 
retreat. The lack of game would reduce them to ignoble 
work, and, exasperated by the prospect of being thus reduced 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 



483 




484 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 

to ignoble work, perpetrated many outrages. During the sum- 
mer and fall of 1866 numerous thefts and murders had been com- 
mitted, the stations of the overland mail route had been attacked, 
but the guilty Cheyennes and Sioux had never been called to ac- 
count. The agents of these tribes doubtless knew who had com- 
mitted these offenses, but an attempt to bring them to punish- 
ment would have interfered with the profits of trade; and what- 
ever recent investigation may have failed to prove of the Indian 
agents, it certainly shows that they are not as honest and dis- 
interested as our favorite political candidate. The leading 
chiefs and warriors of the various tribes had threatened an out- 
break along the whole frontier as soon as the grass was green in 
the spring ; and to intimidate these, rather than to punish those 
who had already committed crimes, Grcn. Hancock set out with a 
largo force, comprising infantry, cavalry and artillery. At Port 
Eiley, Gen. Custer joined this force, with four companies of his 
regiment. \ 

Much time was consumed in trying to indi*ce the Indians to 
come into council. Eunners had been sent o^at to the principal 
chiefs, and all had agreed to assemble near Fort Larned on the 
tenth of April; but they encamped thirty miles away. It soon be- 
came evident that they did not intend to allow this distance to 
decrease ; the message to the effect that, discovering a large herd 
of buffalo, they had stopped to procure meat, was not received 
with much confidence. G-en. Hancock resolved to move nearer 
to the Indian encampment, and although Bull Bear, a Cheyenne 
chief, reported that the chiefs of his own tribe and the Sioux were 
on their way, the army resumed ihe march. They had gone only 
a few miles when they beheld an Indian line of battle drawn di- 
rectly across their path. There were several hundred warriors, 
most of them mounted, armed with bow and arrows, tomahawk 
and scalping-knife, each one carrying, besides these traditional 
arms of his race, either a revolver or a breech-loading rifle, some 
being, by the kindness of the Indian Department, provided with 
both. Scattered over the wide extended plain were small parties, 
evidently scouts and couriers. 

For a moment a fight seemed the inevitable result of this war- 
like array. The infantry and artillery formed in line of battle, 
and the cavalry marching on the flank came galloping up, their 
drawn sabres flashing in the morning sunlight. Along the hos- 
tile line rode the chiefs, evidently exhorting their warriors to 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 485 

deeds of heroism, while each side seemed waiting for the other 
to strike the first blow. In the midst of the universal anxiety 
and expectation, Gen. Hancock, accompanied by his staff, rode 
forward and invited the chiefs to meet him midway between the 
two opposing forces. About ten or a dozen of the principal Chey- 
ennes and Sioux therefore rode to the point designated, and shook 
hands with the officers, seemingly much gratified at this peace- 
ful termination of the encounter. 

The interview ended, and, in accordance with the plans then 
proposed, the Indians went back to their village, the soldiers 
following leisurely in the rear, and encamping near the savages' 
lodges. Here they found that the women and children had fled 
in dread anticipation of a massacre ; and two chiefs, who volun- 
teered to follow and bring them back if Gen. Hancock would 
provide them with horses, failed to return. One of the scouts, 
later in the evening, reported that the rest of the chiefs were sad- 
dling up to leave, and Custer was at once directed to surround 
the village with his men in order to prevent their departure. 
Complete quiet reigned, as if the inmates of the lodges were 
asleep. Investigation showed that the camp was entirel}' empt}' ; 
fearful of a ma^acre, the Indians had fled, leaving all their jDro- 
perty. It is probable that the scout who brought the inform- 
ation, himself a half-breed Cheyenne, had plaj^ed a double game, 
the long operation of surrounding the village so quietly as not to 
alarm the quick-eared Indians, causing a loss of much valuable 
time. 

The cavalry was ordered to follow the Indians. Before day- 
light all their careful preparations for pursuit were completed ; 
and all chance of catching the fugitives was gone. Following 
the trail carefully, preceded by their company of plainsmen and 
friendly Indians, their only success lay in compelling their ene- 
my to disperse into small parties. Thus the trail was lost, and 
the troops were obliged to give up the pursuit. 

Satisfied that the Indians must be many miles in advance of 
them, and that the country was full of game. Gen. Custer left 
his men before they found that the Indians had separated, and 
galloped off after some antelopes that were descried in tbe dis- 
tance. Always a lover of dogs, he was accompanied by several 
fine English greyhounds, and was mounted on a thorough-bred 
horse of remarkable size and speed. But though he took advan- 
tage Oi every turn, the fleet animals eluded his pursuit, and call- 



486 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 




General george a. ouster. 487 

ing off his dogs, he was trying to determine how far he was from 
the troops, when he saw, about a mile from him, a large, dark ani- 
mal grazing. Though he had never seen one "in its wild state, 
he instantly recognized this as a buffalo, and of the largest size. 
An ardent sportsman, this was an opportunity such as had never 
yet befallen him. Calling his dogs to follow him, he slowly pur- 
sued the course of a neighboring ravine until he had approached 
nearly within pistol-shot of the game; his leisurely advance be- 
ing designed to give the horse opportunity to recover himself 
for a second run. The buffalo discovered the presence of the 
hunter, and set off at his utmost speed. 

Fast and far sped the frightened buffalo ; the good greyhounds 
were left behind ; only the horse and his rider followed the huge, 
animal, and at last commenced to gain upon him. Mile after mile 
over the springy turf, and the mettle of the thoroughbred began to 
show in the race for life and death. The protruding tongue and 
labored breathing of the bison proved that he could not long 
continue his flight, and the wild, delighted yells of the hunter 
greeted these evidences of weakness. Placing the muzzle of 
his revolver clo^ to the shaggy hide of the buffalo, he had his 
finger on the trigger, when the animal, exhausted by the long 
chase, and feeling himself unable to escape by flight, wheeled 
around and lowered his horns to gore the horse. Instinctively 
the charger veered about to avoid the attack, and to retain con- 
trol over him the rider brought his right hand to the assistance 
of his left. In the excitement of the moment his finger pressed 
the trigger, and the ball went straight through the brain of the 
horse. He fell dead in the midst of his leap, and Custer, disen- 
gaging himself from the stirrups as soon as he realized the situa- 
tion, found himself whirling in the air beyond his horse's head, 
his one thought being: 

"What will the buffalo do with me ?" 

But Mr. Bison was too much astonished by the strange pro- 
ceeding to make any attack upon his late pursuer, and he fled 
over the prairies, this time unchased. Fortunately for Custer in 
his buftalo hunt he had retraced the steps taken in pursuit of the 
antelopes, and was now ahead of his own column. 

Giving up the idea of catching the Indians, it was decided to 
push on and warn the stations on the stage route that the Chey- 
ennes and Sioux would soon be on the war-path ; but for many 
the warning came too late. The golden opportunity had been 



488 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER, 

lost when G-en. Hancock allowed the Indian village to be desert- 
ed. Of course, Custei", a young officer, without exj^erience in this 
kind of fighting, could not pretend to advise a general of Han- 
cock's long service on the plains, even though a mistake was 
manifestly being committed. 

The abandoned village was burned, and war formally opened. 
G-en. Hancock called a council at Fort Dodge, where the Kiowas 
and ArajDahoes were the most prominent tribes represented. Ex- 
travagant promises of good conduct were made, especially by 
Satanta, of the Kiowas, and his fervid friendship was soon re- 
warded by the gift of the uniform coat, sash and hat of a major 
general. 

When he attacked Fort Dodge a few weeks later, he was 

• CD / 

thus enabled, by the exti'aordinary courtesy of his white foes, 
to appear in full uniform. 

With a force of three hundred and fifty men, Custer was or- 
dered on his first Indian scout, with directions to proceed from 
Fort Hays in Kansas, to Fort McPherson in Nebraska; thence 
southward in a semi-circle, returning to Fort Hays by way of 
Fort Sedgwick and Wallace. This would involve a ride of more 
than a thousand miles, which w^as quite a journey for the young 
officer, unused as yet to plains life and plains distances, as well 
as to Indian fighting. 

Having seen but one war party of Indians since leaving the 
main body, and unable to catch that, they arrived at Fort Mc- 
Pherson, remaining there a few days, in accordance with the or- 
ders of Gen. Sherman. Here Custer learned another important 
lesson in Indian fighting. A council was held this time with 
Pawnee Killer, one of the Sioux chiefs who had escaped from 
Gen. Hancock. Promising to bring his band to encamp by the 
fort, he received from Custer presents of such finery and dainties 
as were best suited to his taste, and left for his village, well sat- 
isfied. 

The presents were all that Pawnee Killer was after; Gen. 
Sherman soon afterward arrived, and from him Custer learned 
what was the value of Indian promises. A detachment sent out 
immediately to find the chief and make him do as he had prom- 
ised, failed in its object, and Custer and his men set out on their 
return expedition. No real fighting had yet occurred ; but plen- 
ty of Indian warfare, attended by its utmost barbarities, was 
soon to be experienced. According to a modification of the plan 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 



489 



first proposed, a ti'usty officer was to bo sent, with a sufficient 
escort, to Fort Sedgwick with Custer's dispatch, and to receive any 
dispatches there for him. The train of twenty wagons was to go 
to Fort Wallace for supplies, the condition of the roads prevent- 
ing such a journey to McPherson. 







CUSTER's IXTERVIEW with I'AWNEK KILLER. 



Major Elliot was selected as the bearer of disj)atches, and set 
out with an escort often men in one direction at the same time 



4f)0 GENERAL OEORGE A. CUSTER. 

that the train, guarded by a full squadron of cavalry, left the 
camp in another. The rest of the force settled doAvn to the ted- 
ious task of waiting, the monotony of which was only relieved 
by the evening concert of the wolves around the camp, and by a 
visit from Pawnee Killer and some of his braves. These, as be- 
fore, professed great friendship for the whites, and especially for 
the " Yellow Chief;" such was the Indian form of the newspaper 
correspondent's " floating golden curls of the boy-general." Paw- 
nee Killer had no great respect for the young officer whom he 
had already fooled, and wound up the conference by a request for 
coifee, sugar and ammunition ; but his contempt was unmerited. 
Custer had learned the lesson, and was not to be again deceived 
into trusting an Indian. The Sioux, despairing of being able to 
massacre the soldiers, for such had been the object of their com- 
ing, took to flight; the chief managing to secure a revolver that 
had been left lying near him ; and the large and heavy horses of 
the troops being unable to overtake the fleet and hardy ponies 
of the Indians, the part}^, after a short pursuit, returned to camp. 

The success of a troop sent out against a small body of the 
savages that appeared soon afterwards, did not entire!}^ reassure 
them ; much anxiety was felt regarding Major Elliot and his men, 
and the wagon train. The former was thought to be in the most 
danger, from the weakness of the party; but when, a few days 
afterwards, the little detachment, safe and sound, rode into camp, 
the general felt assured that the hostile Indians would attack 
the train. He could not hope that they had remained in ignor- 
ance of either expedition; but, knowing of both, the}^ probably 
determined to wait until the wagons loaded with supplies should 
return, and thus secure a victory that should be more than an 
empty honor. 

Thinking this, and believing that his wife, whom he thought 
at Fort Wallace, would put herself under protection of the train 
to join him in camp, Custer determined to take every possible 
measure for the protection of this party. He accordingly sent 
out a full squadron, well moxmted and armed, to meet the train, 
which was defended by forty-eight men. Attack was not antici- 
pated before the wagons reached Beaver Creek, fifty miles from 
the camp, as they would have the advantage of a larger escort as 
far as that point. 

The way from the camp to Fort Wallace lay over the open 
plain, where the deep ravines leading to the water courses would 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 



491 




4^2 aENEflAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 

afford shelter to unfriendly Indians. Yet so level was the plain, 
so almost imperceptible was the course of the ravines, that an un- 
practised eye would have seen no place of concealment. 

" If the Injuns strike us at all/' said the wary scout, Comstock, 
with the train, as they apj)roached a point of which we shall 
hear again, "it will he just about the time that we're comin' 
back along this very spot. Now mind what I tell you, all." 

The suggestion of a young and inexperienced officer that the 
Indians seemed to have departed from that region, brought the 
reply, full of wisdom: " "Whar thar ain't no Injuns, thar you'll 
find 'em thickest." 

And as they approached this spot on the return, the keen eye of 
the scout saw peering over the brow of the hill far away to the 
right, vStrange figures. His field-glass revealed that they were In- 
dians, and his judgment was soon confirmed by the officers. In a 
little while the sharp-eyed savages sawthat they were discovered 
and rode boldly to the crest of the hill. Twenty, thirty, a hun- 
dred warriors came in view, and still from beyond the hill new 
hosts appeared. Between six and seven hundred Indians, array- 
ed in full war costume, brilliantly hideous with paint and feath- 
ers, armed with carbines and revolvers, sometimes with bows 
and arrows, bore down upon them. 

The white men could only resolve to sell their lives as dearly 
as possible. The train was formed in two parallel columns, the 
cavalry horses between them ; the dismounted men being formed 
in a circle enclosing the wagons, then the march was resumed. As 
they went onward in momentary expectation of an attack, the 
Indians continued to approach until they came within easy range ; 
the troops had orders, however, not to fire unless attacked. Sud- 
denly, with a wild whoop, the savages rushed at them. To stam- 
pede the horses, to massacre the escort, to carry off the supj)lies 
in the wagons — such was evidently their plan. Forward they 
dashed, as if to trample beneath the feet of their ponies the hand- 
ful of men at that side of the wagons ; the cavalrymen dropped 
to their knees as the Indians came thundering upon them, and 
taking deliberate aim at the moving mass, poured a deadly vol- 
ley into the crowded ranks. As they wheeled off to the right, 
only pausing to gain j)ossession of the bodies of those who had 
fallen, the white men cheered loudly, and Comstock taunted them, 
in their own tongue, with their lack of success. But his words 
to his companions gave a less hopeful view. Seeing that the sav- 



GENERAL GEORGE A, CUSTER. 



493 







g;^^^^5^^J|^t.i'^i^V^'l;\\V\\^V^^Ms&^ 



4m 



i « 



494 GiENERAL GKORGE A. CUSTEft. 

ages had withdrawn out of rifle range, where they were evident- 
ly holding a consultation, he said : 

"There's no si eh good luck as that they're goin' to give it up 
so. Six hundred red devils ain't agoin' to let fifty men keep 'em 
from gettin' at the sugar and coffee that's in these wagons, and 
they want our scalps besides, to pay for them we popped over a 
few minutes ago." 

As the officers passed along the line, cautioning the men not to 
waste ammunition, as all of it on hand would probably be need- 
ed, the Indians returned to the attack, but in a different manner. 
They had hoped at first that their great superiority of numbers 
would enable them to accomplish easily their purpose ; but this 
style of attack, so foreign to the Indian's nature, had proven un- 
fortunate, and they determined to act with greater caution. Led 
by the chiefs, the whole army of redskins rode in single file, at a 
safe distance from the carbines of the troops. Gradually the long 
line turned, curving around the smaller circle of troops, until 
the whites were completely surrounded. Still they rode around 
and around, as the vulture circles about the dying prey. Each 
warrior throws himself upon the side of his well-trained pony, 
leaving only his head and one foot exposed, and thus protected 
by a living barricade, aims either over or under the neck of his 
steed. 

Still the little force of white men marched steadily onward, de- 
fending themselves with results fatal to many Indians. For three 
hours the fight was kept up, and now every moment increased 
the danger. Although the redskins had suffered great loss in 
men and j^onies, the cavalry found their supply of ammunition 
was running low, and would soon be exhausted. Night or a rein- 
forcement was the only hope ; but it was still early in the day, 
and their comrades in the camp could not know what had befall- 
en them. 

Meanwhile the keen-eyed Indian scouts, posted along the high 
bluffs which bordered the plain, had seen a faint, dark line on the 
horizon ; a line which might be a break in the ground, the shadow 
of a cloud. But slowly it moved al6ng, as if the cloud were 
driven by the winds, and in a moment the savages saw that it was 
a column of cavalry moving rapidly towards them. Three hours 
hard riding had exhausted even the hardy Indian ponies, and 
the chiefs and warriors decided to escape while it Avas still pos- 
sible. The cavalry was at least two hours' journey from them. 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 495 

but their horses might be in good condition for pursuit, and bo 
able to overtake them. Your true " noble red man" always wish- 
es large odds against his enemy. 

To the surprise of the troops, then, a furious hail of shot and 
arrows was followed by their withdrawal ; busily engaged in at- 
tending to the wounded, of whom, however, there were but few, 
about an hour had passed, when new cause for alarm appeared — 
a body of horsemen approaching them. Another force of Indians, 
they thought; but the field-glasses revealed to them the familiar 
blue blouses of their comrades, and the hasty retreat of their as- 
sailants was explained. 

G-reat anxiety was felt in regard to a party of eleven men, that 
had been sent to Fort Wallace on a mission similar to Major El- 
liot's under the command of Lieutenant Kidder. Comstock's 
opinion was far from encouraging : 

"Efl knowed what kind of a man the lootenant was, I could 
tell you mighty nigh to a certainty what you want to know. But, 
j^er see, Injun huntin' and Injun fightin' is a trade of itself, and 
it takes some time to larn the business. Ef a man don't know 
what he's about, he can't make a livin' at it. I've lots of confi- 
dence in the fightin' sense of Red Bead (the Sioux guide), and 
ef he can have his way about it, thar's a purty fair show. But I 
don't know how far the lootenant will take advice. I reckon 
them young fellers that have jist come from West Pint know all 
the book-larnin', but the}' ain't had a chance at anything else, 
and ginerall}', if one of 'em know'd half as much as he thinks he 
does, you couldn't tell him nothing." 

The command had in the meantime moved forward from the 
forks of the Republican River to the Platte, and it was determined 
to return to the point at which a large body had left the main 
party, lest Lieutenant Kidder should miss the trail. At length they 
found the trail of the detachment, leading to the old camp on the 
Republican. Two days farther would take them to Fort Wallace, 
hence they must soon know the fate of the party. At length the 
body of a white horse was found, shot within the last few days, 
and with the brand U. S. It was the color of those ridden by the 
force, and there was but little room to doubt that it was one of 
theirs. All the equipments had been carried away, and nothing 
remained to indicate whether it had been taken ill, and shot 
by the soldiers, or killed in a fight. Proceeding onward, they 
found tlie trail regular and unhurried, as when at first discov- 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 497. 

ered ; after going a little distance they found another horse, 
near which Comstock's eye saw pony tracks ; and the solution 
was no longer doubtful. 

Following the trail, they found evidence that Kidder and his 
men must have trusted to the speed of their horses ; and for sev- 
eral miles the pursuit had continued. "Within a mile of Beaver 
Creek, Avhere a dense growth of tall wild grass was mingled with 
clumps of osiers, they saw large buzzards floating in the air above 
them, and the odor which pervaded the atmosphere was unmis- 
takable. Riding in all directions in search of them, one of the 
Delawares accompanying them uttered a shout that attracted the 
attention of the whole command. There, within the limits of a very 
small circle, lay the mangled, mutilated bodies of the eleven 
men. Every scalp but Ecd Bead's had been taken, and every 
skull crushed by the blow of a tomahawk ; the features of each 
face so disfigured that not one could be recognized, nor could 
the officer be distinguished from the men; each body was brist- 
ling with arrows. How long the fight continued could not be 
told, but evidence of a desj)erate struggle was found about the 
ground. Only the body of the Sioux chief was not mutilated, 
conclusive proof that this was the work of his own tribe. The 
fact that the throats of all were? cut, was, to the experienced 
plainsmen, another indication of the same thing; since this was 
the mark by which the Sioux designated their victims. The 
bodies were buried in a large trench, and the march was con- 
tinued. 

But another danger beset the command, this time from within 
itself. Allured by the large wages paid to miners, and fright- 
ened by the fate of those who fell into the hands of the Indians, 
many of the men deserted, some in broad daylight, riding off in 
sight of their officers, and firing upon pursuers. Of the fift}'- 
three deserters, who escaped in this way or under cover of night, 
six were recaptured ; and strict vigilance prevented any further 
attempt. 

Arriving at Fort Wallace, Custer found the supplies at that 
point nearly exhausted, and no communication existing between 
that and other stations. He accordingly selected a hundred of 
his best mounted men to go to Fort Harker, a distance of two 
hundred miles, and judging that Fort "Wallace would be left in 
peace, chose to accompany it himself. At every station they 
heard of Indians having been in the vicinity within a few days 



498 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 



of their ai'rival, but for some time found no fresh signs of their 
neighborhood. Rapid marching, however, was necessary, and 
though two men were killed by the Indians while far in the rear, 
they were left to be buried by the troops at the nearest station. 

Leaving the command to rest one day at Fort Hays, General 
Custer, accompanied b}^ Cols.- Cook and Custer and two troop- 
ers, rode on to Fort Harkcr. Here he sent telegi-ams announc- 
ing the Kidder massacre, and there being no necessity for his 
presence until the train should be ready to return, asked and re- 
ceived of General Smith, his superior officer, authority to visit 
his family at Fort Eiley, ninety miles by rail from Fort Harker. 
The ingenuity of his enemies turned this expedition for sup- 
plies into a journey on 
private business ; and for 
leaving Fort Wallace 
without orders, marching 
his men excessively, and 
allowing two of them to 
be killed, he was actually 
brought before a court- 
martial. Custer showed 
that he had acted upon 
the last orders that he 
had received from Gen. 
Sherman, Avho had told 
him to proceed to Fort 
Wallace, Avhere Gen. Han- 
cock would give him further directions ; that since the latter offi- 
cer had left Fort Wallace before his arrival, he thought it his 
duty to follow him personally, but necessity had compelled him 
to obtain supplies for the station. But the Indian campaign of 
1867 had been a failure, and it was necessary to tind a scape-goat. 
Custer was therefore selected to be held v.p as the cause of fail- 
ure, and being found guilty, was sentenced to be suspended from 
rank and pay for a year. The justice of this sentence is not 
apparent; if he deserved any punishment at all, if the charges 
were at all true, he should have been instantly dismissed ; if this 
was too severe for the facts, he was not guilty of the offense with 
which he was charged. 

Gen. Sheridan was put in command of this Indian country, and 
arrived at Leavenworth, where Custer was tried, just alter sen- 




GEN. PHILIP H. SHERIDAX. 



CALIFORNIA JOE. 499 

tence was passed; not a word could he say of trial or sentence; 
etiquette prevented him ; but he placed his suite of apartments, 
reserved for him as department commander, at Custer's disposal. 
But as spring came on, and with it the Indian campaign, Custer 
could not bear to see the regiment depart for active service while 
he was left behind; so he returned to Monroe, Michigan, where 
his boyhood had been passed at his sister's house, and where he 
had met and married his wife. 

While he tried to kill time here, and, being of a disposition in- 
clined to make the best of things, doubtless succeeded, his com- 
rades on the plains, trying to kill Indians, were less fortunate. 
The campaign of the spring and summer of 1868 was as great a 
failure as that of the previous year. Even in his short experi- 
ence, Custer had shown himself good material for an Indian fight- 
er, and early in the fall he received a telegram from Gen. Sheri- 
dan, asking him to come at once to join his regiment, on the 
strength of an application for him made by Gens. Sherman and 
Sheridan, and nearl}^ all the officers of the Seventh Cavalry. 
Leaving at once, he was overtaken b}' a despatch from the adju- 
tant general, directing him to report to Gen. Sheridan; the au- 
thorities had yielded to the necessity of the case. 

CALIFORNIA JOE. 

After reporting as ordered, he proceeded to the camp of his 
regiment, thirty miles southeast of Fort Dodge. Finding that 
there were many scouts attached to the various bodies of cavalry 
into which the main force had been divided, aad that these acted 
independently of each other, he decided to organize them into 
a special detachment, under the command of one of their own 
number. The next thing was the selection of such a chief, a task 
bj'' no means easy to the officer unacquainted with the compara- 
tive merits of the men. One attracted his attention : a man of 
forty or more years, his well-proportioned figure more than six 
feet high; a huge sombrero crowned the head, the natural cover- 
ing of which floated in luxuriant dark curls to the shoulders; 
the pleasant, intelligent face was half hidden by a long brown 
beard and moustache, but the kindly black eye M^as not obscured, 
even b}^ the clouds of smoke that issued from his constant com- 
panion, a stubby briarwood pipe. "^ California Joe " was the 
name by which he was known, and no effort has succeeded in as- 
certaining any other. This was the man whom Custer now 
"33 



500 CALIFORNIA JOE. 

appointed chief of the scouts, and a short account of the experi- 
ence which fitted him for the position will not he out of place. 

From Kentucky, in 1849, a party of sixty-five adventurers set 
out towards the gold-fields of "California. Not knowing the dan- 
gers of the plains, they slept night after night without a guard. 
The result need hardly be told. Two hundred Indians crept 
stealthily into the silent camp, only announcing their presence 
by the dull crash of the tomahawk, as it cleft the skull of a slum- 
berer. A woman and two little boys were among the sixty-three 
victims, while Joe, the husband and father, sorely wounded, es- 
caped after enduring almost incredible hardships to Fort Lyon. 
But he had started out to reach the state from which he took his 
name, and in less than two months he was ready to continue his 
journey. But in spite of the constant watch which was kept, 
the little p^arty was attacked ; two men were killed, and the third 
taken prisoner. The bravest may well tremble at the fate which 
now awaited California Joe ; and he made strenuous efforts to 
avoid it by compelling them to kill him at once. His struggles, 
his writhings, his cries were alike unheeded, for they knew he 
Avas too firmly bound to escape, and thought no help was near 
him. 

One of the chiefs cut off the outer rim of each of Joe's ears and 
placed the pieces in his belt. The fire was kindled a short dis- 
tance from his feet, being thus placed that the torture might be 
prolonged ; but as the flames arose, and were reflected from the 
clouds, that which was meant to be torment became a means of 
bringing help, for a party of fifty trappers, encamped less than 
half a mile away, saw the reflection in the sky, and guided to 
the exact spot by Joe's lusty yells, put the Indians to flight and 
rescued the prisoner. 

A peaceful life followed this adventure, lasting for more than 
a year ; spent in trapping with his rescuers. More than one ro- 
mantic story of the border is remembered in connection with his 
name, of which the recovery of little Maggie Reynolds isperhajis 
the most charming. The eleven j^ear old daughter of a hardy trap- 
per, she left her home on the Yellowstone one morning, as she had 
often done before, for a hunt. Night came, but Maggie had not 
returned. Day after day passed, and the search which they in- 
stituted was fruitless. They could only guess what had befallen 
her. 

Months had passed away, and to the little cabin came Califor- 



CALIFORNIA JOE. 501 

nia Joe, who was then trapping near by. To him the story was 
told, but when they suggested that she had been devoured by 
some wild beabt, he shook his head : 

" I'll bet a silver fox's skin that that ar gal is now with them 
'tarnal Cheyennes. I beared thar was a white face with 'em." 

The mother's heart stood still ; such a captivity was worse than 
death for her child. 

" Ain't thar any way ter git her out of their (dutches ?" 
"Yer may just bet thar is, and I'll do it myself." 
A judicious supj)ly of fire-water furnished to four Indians, with 
the promise of more, secured their services. A large village of 
their tribe was sought and entered, their presence not exciting 
any alarm. "Were they not Cheyennes? To the little palc-lace, 
who served a squaw, cross and exacting, like all Indian women, 
because so treated herself, they whispered of a canoe, where the 
thick forest overhung the yellow Missouri; of the quiet of mid- 
night; of the hope of reaching home. More noiselessly than the 
anteloj)e bounds over the thick grass of the prairies did the girl 
leave the camp, escaping unheard by the squaw at whose side she 
slept. Now the image of the morn wavered upon the surface of 
the water, rippled by the breeze, and slipping, sliding, clambering 
down the bank where only the thick roots held the sandy soil 
from the river, she leaped into the dusky arms outstretched to re- 
ceive her, and was soon safe at home. As the story is sometimes 
told, Maggie afterwards became the wife of the man who had 
planned her rescue; but this is by no means certain. 

lie attained considerable reputation during tlie Avar, being es- 
teemed the most skillful marksman in Berdan's shari^shooters. 
For several years after the war he was attached to Gen. Curtis' 
command, and finally, as we have seen, was appointed chief of 
scouts by Custer. The close of the first interview after the ap- 
pointment was announced, is characteristic of both. 

" See hyar, Gineral, in order that we hev no misonderstandin', 
I'd jest like to ask yer a few questions." 

" Certainly, Joe," answered the ofllcer, sniffing the fun from 
afar. 

" Air you an ambulance man, or a hoss man?" 
'* What do you mean? I don't understand your question." 
" I mean, do you b'lieve in ketchin' Injuns in ambulances or on 
hoss-back ?" 

" Well, Joe, I believe in catchijig Indians wherever we can find 



502 



CALIFORNIA JOE. 



them, whether they are found in ambulances or on horse-back." 

" That ain't what I'm drivin' at. S'pose you're after Injuns and 

really want to hev a tussle with 'em, would ye start after ^em on 




CALIFORNIA JOE. 



hoss-back, or would ye climb into an ambulance and be hauled 
after 'em? That's the p'int I'm headin' fur." 

" Well, Joe, if I really desired to catch them, I would prefer 
the horseback method ; but if I wished them to catch me, I'd 
adopt the ambulance system of fittivck." 



eAiilFORNiA JOB. 508 

Joe's rugged features beamed with satisfaction as he answered : 

" You've hit the nail squar' on the head. I've been with 'em 
on the plains whar' they started out after the Injuns on wheels, 
jist as ef they was agoin'to a town funeral in the states, and they 
stood about as many chances of ketchin' Injuns as a six-mule 
team would uv ketchin' a pack of thievin' Kiotees, — jist as 
much." 

Probably from sheer pleasure at finding his new superior a 
man so after his own heart, Joe improved his opportunities by 
getting drunk that very night. This was a fault with which 
Custer had no patience, and the offender was degraded the next 
day from the rank of chief of scouts to that of simple scout; in 
which capacity he remained with Custer for the rest of the cam- 
paign, and did good service. 

The terrible fight with a panther, which left scars upon him to 
the day of his death; the timely bullet which saved his friend, 
struggling unarmed with a burly Indian who had crept upon him 
unawares ; many a bold scouting expedition ; must all remain un- 
told. Volunteering his services to Gren. Crook in 1876, he be- 
came disgusted with that officer. ''He won't furnish pie to his 
men," urged Joe, with offended dignity. But dignity, sense of 
injury, desire of remonstrating, resolution to hold aloof, all van- 
ished before the potent charm of a certain black bottle, that con- 
tained something better than pie. At any rate, such was Joe's 
opinion of its contents. 

But though the briarwood pipe seldom left his lips, it did not 
make him a silent man. Notable even among scouts, who are 
never taciturn when off duty, Joe's silence was a thing unknown. 
His " partner," the friend whose life he had saved, rarely ut- 
tered a word, and as Jack Sprat and his wife divided the meat, 
Joe and his friend entertained each other. Joe was killed by an 
unknown man early in December, 1876; the reason for the act 
being still a mystery. 

Little of interest was done for a month after Custer rejoined 
his command. The regiment had lost many of its old men by 
desertion since the commander's court-martial, and the green re- 
cruits could not ride or shoot. Considerable time must be spent 
in training the men for their work; and it was not until the mid- 
dle of November that the regiment was fit for service among the 
Indians. According to the system that had be.^n pursued, it was 
now time for going into winter quarters, to remain completely 



504 General george a. custer. 

inactive until spring; but that plan was now changed. Fighting 
only in the summer, when the Indians had no difficulty in find- 
ing forage and game, was practically giving them choice of time ; 
but in winter, so scant were 'their supplies that many of their 
ponies often died of actual starvation, and several weeks of good 
grazing in the spring were required to restore them to a suitable 
condition for battle, pursuit and flight. A maxim of the art of 
war directs the soldier to do that which the enemy does not ex- 
pect or desire; this winter campaign would carry this out to the 
letter, and so careful preparations were made for a descent upon 
the Indians in the depth of the season. 

Four hundred wagons, w^ith a guard of infantry, and thirteen 
friendly Osages as scouts, accompanied the Seventh Cavalry to 
Camp Supply, as the new station was named; the expedition 
being under the command of G-en. Sully. Custer chafed under 
the restraint which the extreme caution of the aged officer im- 
posed upon him, and the approach of Gen. Sheridan was hailed 
with joy. They were to operate beyond the limit of Gen. Sully's 
district, and he was therefore relieved from further command. 
Preparations were immediately made for marching at a mo- 
ment's notice into the Indian country, and after six daj^s' wait- 
ing came a brief letter of instructions, necessarily general in 
terms. On the evening of the twentj'-second of November, or- 
ders were issued to be in readiness to move promptly at day- 
break the next morning. While the snow fell fast without the 
frail canvas shelters, each doubtless found time to pen a few lines 
to friends, to tell them of the proposed expedition; for besides 
the ordinary uncertainties of war, they could not tell when they 
would again be in communication with the civilized world. 

All night long the snow-storm continued, so that when reveil- 
le soTinded at four o'clock the next morning, the ground was 
covered with snow to a depth of over a foot, and the fall had not 
abated. In the very teeth of the blinding storm they marched, 
and before they had gone many miles even the Indian guides 
owned that they had lost their way. Undeterred by such diffi- 
culties, Custer shaped his course by a pocket compass, became 
his own guide, and reached "Wolf Creek, where he had intended 
to camp that afternoon. "Next morning at dawn they started 
again, this time with a clear sky overhead ; and a scouting party 
under Major Elliot found a fresh trail of a war-part}^, one hun- 
dred and fifty strong; the last of the season, probably going 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 505 

home disgusted with the weather. Tlie Seventh was in the heart 
of the Indian country, unperceived. 

Already in the valley of tlie Washita, they proceeded on this 
trail by night. To guard against surprises, two Osages, on foot, 
preceded them by three or four hundred yards; then the rest of 
the Indians, the white scouts, including California Joe, and in 
their midst, Custer himself; at a distance of a quarter or a half 
mile followed the main body. Perfect silence marked their 
march ; and not a match was struck, even to light a pijie. The 
Osages in front smelled fire, but it proved to be only the embers 
of one kindled by Indian boys who had been herding ponies 
during the day. 

Custer now preceded the whole command, with the two Osages. 
As they approached the crest of each hill, one of the guides would, 
according to the invariable Indian custom, hasten forward and 
peer cautiously over the hill. This happened several times, 
when at last the Osage placed his hand above his eyes, as if look- 
ing intently at some object, and then crept stealthily back to the 
leader. 

"What is it?" he asked, eagerly. 

" Heaps Injuns down there," was the reply, as the guide point- 
ed to the valley just beyond the hill. 

Crouching low, so as not to be seen in the moonlight against 
the horizon, Custer and the Indian crept to the crest of the hill, 
whence the soldier could see a large body of some kind of ani- 
mals at a distance which he estimated at half a mile ; but he 
could not tell but that it was a herd of buffalo. Turning to the 
guide, he asked : 

"Why do 3'ou think they are Indians?" 

" Mc hear dog bark." 

In a moment, as if to confirm his words, a dog was heard bark- 
ing in the heavy timber to the right of the group, and the tinkle 
of a bell showed that their ponies were near by. Another sound, 
the cry of an infant, awakened the soldier's regret that he was 
forced by the atrocity of his enemy's murders and depredations 
to engage in a war in which the women and children could not 
be protected. 

" The bravest are the tondcrest, 
The k)viiig are the daring." 

■Halting here, all necessary arrangements were made for the 
attack. Few attempted to sleep, so bitterly cold was the night, 



506 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTElt. 

SO comfortless their tireless, shelterless condition. From group 
to group, crouching or lying upon the frozen snow, went Custer. 

"Fight!" said California Joe, as the leader approached the 
scouts; "I haven't nary doubt concernm' that part of the busi- 
ness; what I've been tryin' to git through my top-knot all 
night is whether we'll run against more'n we bargain for." 

" Then you don't think that the Indians will run away, Joe? " 

"Eun away ? How in creation kin Injuns or anybody else run 
away when we'll have them clean surrounded by daylight?" 

"Well, suppose then that we succeed in surrounding the vil- 
lage, do you think we can hold our own against the Indians ? " 

" That's the very p'int that's been botherin' me ever sence we 
planted ourselves down here, and the only conclusion I kin come 
to is that it's purty apt to be one thing or t'other; if we jump 
these Injuns at daylight, we're either goin' to make a spoon or 
spile a horn, and that's my candid judgment, sure. One thing's 
sartin; ef them Injuns don't hyar anything of us till we open on 
'em at daylight, they'll be the most powerful 'stonished red-skins 
that's been in these parts lately — they will, sure. An' ef we git 
the bulge on 'em and keep a puttin' it to 'em pretty lively like, 
we'll sweep the platter — thar won't be nary a trick left for 'em. 
As the deal stands now, we hold the hoards and are holdin' over 
'em ; they've got to straddle our blind or throw up their hands. 
Howsomever, there's a mighty sight in the draw." 

The first faint streaks of light appeared in the east, and all was 
in readiness for the advance. In spite of the freezing cold, over- 
coats were removed, that the men might be free in their move- 
ments. Two detachments were sent, one each way round, to attack 
the village from the other side, the signal being the first notes 
of " Garry Owen." Communication with the two divisions that 
had gone to the other side of the village was impossible, and the 
commander must guess at their readiness. So still was the vil- 
lage as they approached, that he feared a repetition of Hancock's 
experience; but a single rifle shot, that rang sharp and clear from 
the further side of the town, and the rollicking notes of the air 
selected as the signal, aroused the whole village in an instant. 
From all sides the soldiers dashed, shouting, into the town ; the 
Indians realized the situation at once, and arming in a moment's 
time, sought the shelter of the nearest trees and the neighboring 
stream, whence they poured shot upon the troops. In answer 
to the exultant cheers of the soldiers came the wild war-whoop 



diiNERAL GEORGE A. CUStfiR. 



h61 



W^^ii rt 



' I' 



I'JiiillA- 




^^^^'''^^TTS-^;:.?;- 




.-.-r^ 









508 GENERAL GEORGE A. CtJSTER. 

of the savages; but in a few moments the village was in the 
hands of the troojis. 

Before the victory could he called complete, however, the In- 
dians must be driven oflF. This was a work of more difficult}', but 
slowly and steadily they were driven from behind the trees. Post- 
ing themselves in the ravines, they fired from an almost perfect 
shelter, until the sharp-shooters that Custer had recently trained 
picked them off as they exposed themselves to get a shot. In- 
side the lodges were the Indian women, who now gave vent to 
their despair by singing the death-song; and the wild, unmusical 
lament added to the din. A Mexican interpreter, Romero, or 
" Eomeo," was sent to reassure them with the promise that they 
would be unharmed and kindly treated ; but it was difficult to 
obtain a hearing from the terrified ereatui'es. 

At ten o'clock the fight was still raging, California Joe con- 
cluded to start out on his own account, and after moving about 
for sometime in what Gen. Custer calls a promiscuous and in- 
dependent manner, obtained permission to collect and drive in a 
large herd of ponies that was seen near by. In the meantime a 
number of Indians had been noticed, collected on a knoll about 
a mile away, and as Joe came into camp with two squaw prison- 
ers assisting him with his drove of three hundred ponies, Custer 
saw that the number of the enemy outside the lines had grown 
to nearly a hundred. All were mounted warriors, fully armed, 
and their force was constantly increasing. At first, he had 
thought that a few might have escaped from the village, but this 
army could not have done so, nor would they hare been so com- 
pletely equipped. A squaw, being questioned, gave the aston- 
ishing and by no means pleasing information that this was but 
one of a group of villages; that besides this of the Cheyennes, 
there was another of the same tribe, and those of the Arapahoes, 
Kiowas, Comanches and Apaches clustered in the timbered val- 
ley, the farthest being less than ten miles off. 

There was no doubt of an attack from a greatly superior force 
upon the troops, exhausted by their long fight ; and no time was 
lost in preparing to repel it. A fresh supplj'- of ammunition was 
issued, and the fight soon began at aH,points of the circle which 
now formed the line of battle, and of which the village was the 
center. The Indians fought with an excessive caution,rare, when 
numerical superiority was so great as at this time, but the burn- 
ing of the village seemed to arouse them to new fury. The tim- 



GENEiaAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 



509 



ber and the configuration of the ground, however, enabled Custer 
to use his men to the better advantage, and he finally judged that 
offensive measures might be adopted. Step by step the Indians 
were driven from the field, every inch of ground contested ; and 
it was not until three o'clock in the afternoon that they were 
forced to yield. 

It was difficult to know how to dispose of the spoils of war ; 
the village, with all that M^as in it, had been burned, but more 
than sixty squaws and children were their prisoners, and nearly 




THE MESSENGER OF DEFEAT. 



nine hundred ponies were in their possession. The latter were 
too tempting to marauding parties, were needed by the Indians, 
but useless to the troops ; to keep or abandon them was equally 
dangerous, so all were shot, except those necessary for the pris- 
oners. When Eomco announced to the squaws that they would 
be kindly treated during the march, the}^ gathered around the 
" big chief," as the Indians stj^le a commanding officer, and 
obliged him to go through much handshaking. One squaw told 
him that her people had returned the night before with white 
scalps and plunder; and celebrated their success by getting 
drunk. She also insisted upon his marrying a young girl of the 




-7iiiiaili,ii-ir^,;^MiHliii!i^lr^-^ f^t^riiiiir^i#F^^a 



GENERAL GEORaE A. CUSTER. 511 

tribe, anl performed the whole Indian ceremony before the in- 
terpreter could explain to Custer what she was doing. 

It was necessary to frighten the warriors in the other villages, 
to deter them from making an attack; then, with band playing, 
and colors flying, he marched straight down the river towards 
the threatening parties assembled at various points. The move- 
ment had the desired effect, for the Indians turned and fled in 
confusion ; the lesson of the attack on the Cheyenne village need- 
ed no immediate repetition. Messengers had cai'ried the doleful 
news in every direction. 

California Joe and another scout were sent with a despatch to 
Gren. Sheridan, giving report of the brittle ; and returned safely to 
the regiment before it reached Camp Supply. The return des^Datch 
repaid the Seventh for the hardships of the march, and when the 
same ofiicer further honored them by a review, a great conde- 
scension in military etiquette, since Sheridan was a major-gen- 
eral, and this but a single regiment, their proud pleasure knew no 
bounds. 

One hundred and three warriors had been killed, and the 
amount of plunder that fell into their hands seems almost incred- 
ible, until we reflect that this was the preparation made for win- 
ter. Gen. Custer's Indian scouts celebrated the victory in their 
own manner b}" a war-dance in the most approved sl3'le, and the 
soldiers had the opportunity to witness the weird scene at night 
by firelight. 

But this was only the beginning of the campaign, and five days 
after the review mentioned, the regiment again set out for the 
Washita, accompanied by Gen. Sheridan and his staff, and the 
Nineteenth Kansas Volunteer Cavalry, raised especially for In- 
dian hostilities; the entire force numbering about fifteen hun- 
dred men. Thirty days' rations ^vere provided, and the force 
presented a formidable array. 

" I'd just like to seethe streaked count'nances of Satanta, Med- 
icine Arrow, Lone AVolf, and a few others of 'em, when they 
ketch the fust glimpse of the outfit. They'll think we're comin' 
to spend an evenin' with 'em sure, and hev brought our knittin' 
with us. One look'll satisfy 'em, andthar'll be some of the durnd- 
est kickin' out over these plains that ever war heer'n tell of. One 
good thing, it's goin' to come as nigh killin' of 'em to stai"t 'em 
out at this time of year as ef we hed an out and out scrummage 
with 'em. The way I looks at it they hev just this ch'ice : them 



512 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 




SATANTA. 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 



513 




LONE WOLF, HEAD CHIEF OF THE KIOWAS. 



514 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 



as don't like bein' shot to death kin take ther chances at freez- 
in.' " 

The regiment reached the battle ground without adventure, and 
found that they had plunged into a hornet's nest when they had 
attacked the Cheyennes. The whole forest, for twelve miles, was 
a line of Indian villages, six hundred lodges having been within 
five miles of the battle ; now deserted, their inhabitants having 
fled in the utmost confusion, leaving everything behind. 

As they continued the march down the Washita to Fort Cobb, 
a despatch was brought by Kiowa Indians, imder Satanta and 
Lone Wolf, stating that all the tribes for twenty miles from the 
station were friendly. Custer mistrusted the intentions of a 
large party that came armed and painted for war, but was obli- 
ged to follow orders. The chiefs agreed to ride with him to Port 
Cobb, assuring him that their villages would encamp near by, to 
prove that they held no communication with the hostile tribes. 
As chief after chief, on one pretext or another, left the column 
the next day, Custer felt his suspicions confirmed. He was now 
sure that the lodges were to be moved away from, instead of to- 
ward Fort Cobb, and resolved to prevent it. When all the min- 
or chiefs had gone, Satanta and Lone Wolf were seized as prison- 
ers and hostages ; a little later, by Gen. Sheridan's orders, a mes- 
sage was sent to the Kiowas that if their bands were not in camp 
at sunset of the next day, the two chiefs would be hanged at that 
hour. The tribe that had moved at such an imperceptible rate 
became alarmed, and were under the guns of Fort Cobb long be- 
fore the designated time. 

The Arapahoes remained to be dealt with, but Custer, with 
forty men, went to their village and induced them to settle peace- 
fully upon their reservation. Such was the estimation in which 
this journey was held than one of the oflicers of his command, in 
bidding him good-bye, contrived to slip into his hand a small 
pocket derringer, loaded; with the remark: 

" You had better take it, General ; it may prove useful to you." 

It was intended, in case of his being captured and deprived of 
his more formidable weapons, to enable him to escape torture b\ 
becoming his own executioner. He returned in safety, however, 
having accomplished his purpose, and was ready, early in March, 
1869, to go in search of the Cheyennes who had not been in the 
village on the Washita. 

No difficulty was expeHenced in finding the trail of the band, 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 515 

and as the Indians, when not pursued, move with the laziest 
sort of deliberation, the cavahy overtook them, although they 
had had a start of a month. There were nearly three hundred 
lodges in the village and near it, sheltering- the whole Cheyenne 
tribe; but the safety of two white women, who were known to be 
held captives in their power, prevented Custer from making an 
attack. Four chiefs, Big-Head, Dull Knife, and two others were 
captured and offered in exchange ; but the Indians would make 
no definite answer. Finally Custer sent one as messenger to say 
that if by sunset the next day the women were not delivered up 
to him, he would hang his captives to a certain tree which he 
designated. The ropes were ready, and the limb selected when 
the Cheyennes brought in the women, whom they did not think 
of equal importance with chiefs as hostages. 

Custer had not offered an unconditional exchange of prisoners ; 
the Cheyennes must return to their reservation. Seeing that no 
other terms could be obtained, and knowing too well what the 
"Big Yellow Chief" could do, they promised to comply with his 
demands as soon as their ponies were in condition for marching, 
and never again to go upon the war-path. For years after Custer's 
death this promise was still unbroken; butuntil the United States 
government keeps faith with the Indians we cannot expect peace. 
The campaign in the Indian Territory was now at an end, and the 
summer could be spent in rest. Encamped in the neighborhood 
of Fort Hay, Custer's life was now a perfect round of pleasur- 
able excitement. Tourists from the east or from Europe often 
came to see the successful Indian tighter, and'hunting excursions 
took place nearly every week. The Indians were really and 
truly at peace, cowed by his successes ; the campaign had made 
them thoroughl}" respect him. 

The succeeding winter was spent at Leavenworth, where he 
began to write his "War Memoirs," and the spring and summer of 
1870 were passed like the same seasons of the previous year. 
The removal of his regiment that fall to the east of the Missis- 
sij)pi gave a quieter and less pleasant life, the monotony of which 
was broken only once. 

When, in 1872, the Grrund Duke Alexis visited the United 

States, it was desired to show him a buffalo hunt, and Custer was 

chosen to escort liim to the plains. The Russian was delighted 

with liis hunt and with Custer, whom he saw for the tirst time in 

the j)icturesque buck-skin hunting-shirt which the general always 
83 



516 



GENERAL GEORGE A. OUSTER. 



wore on the plains; and insisted that he must accompany the 
party on the tour through the west. 

But, however pleasant this mightbe, his next orders delighted 
Custer still more. In March, 1873, the Seventh Cavalry was or- 
dered to Dakota, and all the officers, scattered about among dif- 





A BTIFFALO HUNT. 

ferent posts, rejoiced at the news. It meant business, calling 
them out in a body, and when they met at Memphis, all were glad 
to see each other and anxious for work. 

The railroad is the great conqueror of the Indian. " l!^o one 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 517 

measure," says Custer himself, " so quickly and eifectuully frees 
a country from tlie horrors and devastations of Indian wars and 
Indian depredations as the building and successful operation of a 
railroad through the region overrun. The Northern Pacific was 
to be built, and the government had assigned troops to protect 
it from the Sioux. On this expedition, known as the Yellowstone, 
Custer's daily practice was to precede the main command escort- 
ing the surveyors and engineers, and the heavily laden wagons, 
and mark out the best road, thus avoiding the serious delays that 
had occurred before the adoption of this plan. 

On the morning of August 4th, the Arickaree scout and guide, 
Bloody Knife, discovered fresh signs of Indians ; nineteen had 
been prowling around the camp on the previous night, and had 
gone away, traveling in the same direction in which the whites 
were marching. This, however, created no alarm, as the pioneer 
party numbered ninety, and they felt sure that the Indians would 
not attack so great a force. 

Halting at ten o'clock on the high bluffs bordering the Yellow- 
stone valley, the horses were watered, and then picketed out to 
graze; half a dozen pickets were posted on the oi)en plain be- 
3"ond, and the remainder of the party prepared for solid comfort. 
On the grass beneath a wide-spreading cottonwood lay Gren. Cus- 
ter, with his saddle and buckskin coat for a pillow; boots off, 
cravat untied, collar open, he was fully prepared to enjoy his 
out-door nap. Beside him la}^ his brother, Col. Custer, and not 
far off were the other three officers, Moylan, Calhoun and Yar- 
num, similarly prepared for the same pleasure. Around them lay 
the men, and in a few moments the pickets were the only mem- 
bers of the party not asleep. Suddenly came the cry of "In- 
dians!" and the sharjj crack of the sentries' rifles followed the 
cry. Officers and men sprang to their feet, catching up the rifles, 
which, as a matter of habit, had been placed within easy reach. 

"Run to your horses, men; run to your horses !" shouted the 
general, as he saw that the Indians intended to stampede the an- 
imals and then attack the soldiers. 

Si)ringing to their saddles, they rode headlong forward to 
where half a dozen Sioux warriors were galloping up and down 
before them, evidently to decoy them onward to a point where a 
large body lay in ambush. Leaving Moylan with the main force 
as a reserve. Gen. Custer, with his brother, Calhoun and twenty 
troopers, rode forward after the retreating Sioux. There was 



518 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 




^ENEiElAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 519 

no hope of overtaking them, such was the fleetness of their po- 
nies, but they did not choose to go at full speed. Custer rode 
forward, accompanied only by an orderly, and made the sign for 
a parley, but the Indians would not respond. His orderly was 
then sent hack to warn Col. Custer to keep a sharp lookout upon 
the heavy bushes to the left; the message was delivered, and the 
man on his way back to the general, when the savages in front 
advanced as if to attack, and at the same moment Custer saw 
three or four hundred Sioux warriors bursting from the suspect- 
ed bushes. Dashing from the timber at full speed, j^elling and 
whooping as only Indians can, they yet moved forward in as per- 
fect order as the best drilled cavalry. 

Wheeling his horse suddenly around, and driving his spurs in- 
to its side, Custer rode for his life towards his brother's party ; 
shouting: " Dismount your men, dismount your men I" with al- 
most every bound of his horse. It was a race on as it were two 
sides of a triangle, to see which should reach the troops first, 
— Custer or the mounted Indians. The order was unheard, but 
fortunately Col. Custer had before this contended against a sud- 
den and unforeseen onslaught of savages, and gave the order 
which his brother would have given, Nearer and nearer he drew 
to the little group of dismounted cavalrymen, as, kneeling in the 
grass, with finger on trigger, they awaited the enemy approach- 
ing with equal rapidity. It seemed but a moment more, and the 
Sioux, riding as if unconscious of their presence, would have 
trampled the kneeling troopers down to the earth. 

" Don't fire, men, until I give the word, and when you do fire, 
aim low," was the direction which the young officer gave, as he 
sat on his horse, calmly awaiting the onset j then : 

"Now, men, let them have it." 

And before the volley of well-aimed soots, followed quickly by 
another, the warriors reeled in their saddles and their ponies fell 
dead. They lost confidence in their power to tramj^le down the 
little body; they faltered; they fled in the wildest confusion. A 
third shower of balls hastened their flight, and the cheer of the 
cavalrymen announced their victory and the arrival of Moylan 
and the main force at the same time. 

Of course, it was but a temporary retreat; the Indians would 
soon return to the attack, and preparations must be made to re- 
pulse them the second time. A natural terrace was to bo used as 
a breastwork, and though the Indians made every attempt to dis- 



520 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTEft. 

lodge them and force them to the open plateau, the men kept 
their position. Pinding their plans- foiled, they tried another, 
which was detected by the quick eyes of Bloody Knife. Crawl- 
ing through the grass, Custer thought they could hardly mean to 
attack on foot, and was only enlightened as to their intention 
when small columns of smoke were seen shooting up all along 
the front. 

"They are setting fire to the long grass, and intend to burn us 
out," were the ominous words of Bloody Knife, his face clouded 
with anxiety. Then, while his exi^ression brightened, and a 
scornful smile parted his lips : 

" The Great Sjoirit will not help our enemies. See, the grass 
refuses to burn." 

A month later the dry grass would have burned like tinder, 
but noAV it was too green, and the Indians were obliged to find 
another mode of attack. A pathway in the rear of the troops 
would have led the redskins along the water's edge, where the 
high bank would screen them from observation ; so that the 
horses, concealed in the grove near the river, might have been 
stampeded. The design was fortunately discovered, and the In- 
dians soon afterward retreated. This occasioned considerable 
surprise at first, but was explained when an immense cloud of 
dust was seen at a distance, rapidly apj^roaching. Not waiting 
to welcome their comrades, the cavalrymen, as soon as they were 
certain that relief was at hand, were in their saddles in a moment 
and dashing after the enemy. A hot pursuit failed in its object ; 
the fleet and hardy ponies outran the heavy cavalry horses, and 
they returned to camp under the cottonwood trees where they 
had rested in the morning. 

This was the first intimation to the whites that the Sioux were 
on the war path, and although none of the men in the fight were 
killed, two unarmed old men, the veterinary surgeon and the sut- 
ler of the Seventh, were found dead; they had strayed from the 
main body in search of natural curiosities, as they were in the 
habit of doing, and had been wantonly murdered by some wan- 
dering Sioux. 

l^othing more was seen of war parties during the remainder 
of the time that they were on this expedition, although Indians 
were seen hovering near for several days; until an attack by the 
Sioux under Sitting Bull, at nearly the end of their journey, 
which was repulsed without loss. Ordered now to Fort Abraham 



GENERAL GEORGE A, CUSTER. 521 

Lincoln, Custer passed some time in quiet, until the Black Hills 
expedition in 1874 again called him into the field. 

This unexplored region, that derived its name from the dark 
pines that tossed on the hillsides in the wind like the plumes on 
a hearse, had been ceded to the Sioux by solemn treaty in 1868 ; 
but some Indians came to a trading post with gold dust and nug- 
gets, which they admitted had been found there, and the accursed 
thirst for gold drew the eyes of all men thither. The govern- 
ment decided to send a strong detachment to explore the hills 
and ascertain if gold were really to be found there, and Custer, 
with a force of over twelve hundred men, was detailed for the 
duty. 

Two weeks after they set out, they entered the Sioux reserva- 
tion, two hundred and twenty-seven miles from Fort Lincoln. 
Through a country more beautiful than any they had ever seen, 
they marched, unmolested by the Indians, who, busily watching 
Custer, had no time for the war which they had intended to carry 
on in small parties. 

Custer's report represents the country as a perfect garden, but 
this was doubted by those who had seen it in a less favorable 
season; the geologists, too, who had accompanied him, made un- 
satisfactory reports. But the tide was not to be stayed. Adven- 
turers by hundreds iiocked into the country, regardless of pro- 
hibition. The mischief had been done ; Custer's expedition had 
shown the Sioux that the United States did not intend to keep 
the treaty any longer than that treaty was to the Government's 
advantage, and the clouds began to gather tfast in the beautiful 
country that had seemed to him ^n earthly pai'adise. 

In the next year, while Custer and his command were resting 
peacefully at Fort Lincoln, the identity of the Sioux who had 
murdered the sutler and the veterinary surgeon on the Yellow- 
stone expedition was proven in a singular manner. The mur- 
derer boasted of his crime at the trading-post where he was 
drawing rations and ammunition. The news quickly reached 
Custer, who sent out a detachment of a hundred men to march to 
the agency. Sealed orders, opened twenty miles beyond Fort 
Tiiee, directed them to capture and bring in the murderer, Eain- 
in-the-Face. 

As the troops neared the agency it was found necessary to 
observe the greatest care, to prevent the Indians, gathered to 
draw rations, from finding out the object of their expedition. 



522 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 



Captain Yates, in command of the force, succeeded in blinding 
the Sioux as to his real purpose, and Rain-in-the-Face was 
thrown completely off his guard. On a certain day, Col. Custer 
was sent, with five men, to go to the store and caj)ture the mur- 
derer, should he put in an appearance. It must be remembered 
that, like many officers of the Seventh, Col. Custer's highest 
rank was only a brevet, he being really junior to Yates. The 
cold weather caused the Indians to keep their blankets drawn 
over their heads, but at last one of them loosened his, thus throw- 
ing off the disguise. It was Eain-in-the-Face. Col. Custer threw 




CAPTURE OF RAIN-IN-THE-FACE. 



his arms around him and seized the rifle which the Indian attempt- 
ed to grasp. Taken completely by surprise, he was quickly secu- 
red ; his people were greatly excited, and numerous speeches 
were made by the warriors in the high, monotonous voice they 
use. Captain Yates immediately prepared to repel an attack, 
and found that such care was not unnecessary, for five hundred 
Indians gathered around him, demanding the release of the 
pT'isoner. 

Rain-in-the-Face was taken to Fort Lincoln, and kept in cap- 
tivity several months, notwithstanding the efforts that his tribe 



GENERAL 0j:0RGE A. CUSTER. 523 

made to secure his freedom. He finally made his escape, and 
went at once to the hostile camp. From that point he sent word 
that he had joined Sitting Bull and was waiting to revenge him- 
self on the Big Yellow Chief for his imprisonment. 

Rain-in-the-Face was a warrior of whom his tribe were parti- 
cularly proud, on account of his powers of endurance. At the 
sun-dance, where a gash is cut under some of the sinews of the 
back, immediately under the shoulder blades, and the Indian 
suspended by a buffalo thong passed through this until his own 
weight causes him to fall, this young man had stood the test 
most successfully, hanging in this way, exposed to the burning 
summer sun, for four hours. 

Early in 1876 it was determined to make war upon the hostiles, 
and, probably that the Indians might have a chance of life and 
victory, ample suj^plies of arms and ammunition were distribu- 
ted to them through the agencies. Early in March, a force was 
sent under the command of Gen. Reynolds, accompanied by Gen. 
Crook, the department commander, in person, towards the Pow- 
der River. Here Crazy Horse's village was attacked, but the 
victory was not as complete as it should have been made; and 
Crazy Horse was only exasperated by the destruction of his pro- 
perty, while all his men and weapons and nearly all his ponies 
remained to him, leaving him as strong as ever for fighting op- 
erations. 

Gen. Terry was to send out, as soon as the late spring of the 
far north would allow, a force to cooperate with Gen. Crook's. 
Custer was to be assigned to the comm^id of this column, ac- 
cording to the plans of Gens. Sherman and Sheridan, the force 
consisting mainly of his regiment, and being organized at his 
post. The reason for this was obviously Custer's success as an 
Indian fighter; he had never yet met with disaster while in com- 
mand of an important expedition. But while he was hard at 
work preparing for this journey to the land of the Sioux, he was 
summoned to Washington as a witness as to some alleged abuses 
in the War Department. Notwithstanding the fact that he was 
needed in Dakota, that he knew little, if anything, about the 
matter that was being investigated, he was obliged to go to the 
capital, where he was kept a month. Unwilling to go, since he 
was needed at the west, unwilling to testify, since he could give 
only hearsay evidence and opinion. Gen. Grant, then President, 
persisted in believing that he was anxious to make such state- 



524 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 

ments as he could, aud took his presence in Washington as a 
personal injury and insult offered to himself, the commander-in- 
chief of the army. 

Custer heard that Grant was bitterly incensed against him, 
and knowing it was without just cause, endeavored to see liim, 
hoping by a frank statement of the truth to disabuse his mind 
of that impression. Three times he called at the White House, 
but was compelled to wait in the ante-room for hours without 
gaining admittance to the President. Nor did a letter to Gen. 
Grant produce the desired effect. 

Calling upon Gen. Sherman, Custer found that he was in New 
York, and left Washington on the evening train. The next day 
Gen. Sheridan received a telegram from Gen. Sherman, direct- 
ing him to intercept Custer at Chicago or St. Paul, and order 
him to halt for further orders; that he was not justified in leav- 
ing without seeing the President or the General of the Army; 
that the expedition from Ft. Lincoln should proceed without him. 

President Grant was implacable in his displeasure, and few" 
were the concessions which could be wrung from him. The poor 
favor of being at Fort Lincoln instead of Chicago was granted, 
and after an earnest and touching appeal, Custer was allowed to 
accompany, as a subordinate, the expedition of which he was to 
have been the leader. 

The two columns moved towards each other, and Gen. Crook's 
came within striking distance of Sitting Bull; but again valu- 
able time was lost. As they were in camp, they were attacked 
by the Sioux, and Crook decidedly out-generaled by Sitting 
Bull, a born soldier. Driven back with serious loss, Crook re- 
turned to his permanent camp. 

Meanwhile Gen. Terry, from Fort Lincoln, and Gen. Gibbon, 
from Fort Ellis, had effected a junction near the mouth of the 
Tongue Eiver, and steps were immediately taken to find out 
where the Indians were. Major Reno of the Seventh was sent 
out to explore the tongue of land, some fifteen miles wide, be- 
tween the Rosebud and Little Big Horn, • A large trail was 
found, and the position of the Indians fixed, Custer was di- 
rected to move up the Rosebud until this trail was struck, then 
turn toward the south, sending scouts over the trail. He de- 
clined the offer of Gibbon's cavalry and a few Gatling guns, 
saying that his own command would be sufficient, and artillery 
would impede his march. 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 



625 




RAIN-IN-THE FACE. 



520 GENERAL GEOHCiE A. CUs'i'ER. 

Gen. Terry inquired at what rate lie intended to march j the 
answer was, about thirty miles a day. Gen. Gibbon was to 
move upon the Indians at the same time by a route of nearly 
equal length, so that if they marched at the same rate his force 
would be a reserve for Custer to fall back on in case of need. 

Leaving the camp at noon 6n June 22d, the regiment marched 
up the Eosebud as ordered, camping at night twelve miles from 
their starting point. But when morning came the impetuous 
cavalryman could no longer restrain his ardor; the game was in 
the field; why should the sportsmen delay? Five miles more 
than the limit were made that day, and at 5 o'clock on Saturda}' 
morning, June 24th, they were again on the march. All day they 
kept steadily on, until, at 8 P. M,, they had marched forty-five 
miles. Halting for supper, they marched ten miles further. 
They had not taken the proposed route, but had, instead, follow- 
ed the trail discovered by Reno. 

But, even after their fifty miles' march, they were not to rest. 
After a short halt, the horses being still saddled, they pressed on, 
and by 8 on the morning of the 25th had advanced twenty-three 
miles further — a total of one hundred and twenty-five miles 
since noon of the 22d, or at the rate of forty -four miles in twen- 
ty-four hours. 

It was Sunday morning when they halted on one of the 
branches of the Little Big Horn. The Indians had discovered 
their presence, and as a surprise was no longer possible, it was 
determined to attack at once. 

Custer, true to his custom of surrounding the enemy and at- 
tacking from all sides at once, sent three companies under Major 
Reno to the left, and three under Captain Benteen further in the 
same direction. He retained five companies under his own com- 
mand, one being in charge of the packs. 

The village before them was supposed to be a family camp, or 
at least one of comparatively few lodges. The Indians appeared 
to be retreating, and, fearful lest they escape him, Custer gave 
the order for rapid movements. Advancing at a fast trot, Major 
Reno forded the river about two miles from the point where the 
main command was posted, and charged down the valley. Then 
he found how great a mistake had been made. Fully four thou- 
sand warriors of the Sioux were in the village, lead by that ter- 
rible being for whose head the people of Montana had for eight 
years past ofi"ered a reward of $1,000 — Sitting Bull. With diifi- 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER, 527 

culty Capt. Benteen, driven back by this host, had made his way 
to Reno's command ; he could not obey the penciled order re- 
ceived from Custer's adjutant, Lieut. Cook : 

*' Benteen, come on ; be quick ; big village ; bring packs." 

The men were dismounted, and for some time endeavored to 
beat oif the swarms of assailants. The fusilade of shots reminded 
the old soldiers of the fight in the Wilderness when the North 
and South strove together. But at last they saw how futile were 
their efforts; they remounted and endeavored to gain the high 
bluffs across the river. Hot and fast came the painted devils af- 
ter them, while the troopers fought their way out. Thicker and 
thicker hailed the shots, as the soldiers urged their horses up the 
bank, so steep that they could not sit upright in their saddles, 
but must cling to the animals' necks. Just as the ascent was 
gained, eight men fell. Wounded before, they had managed to 
keep their seats until beyond the enemy's reach. Others were 
wounded, and the firing was as heavy as ever. 

Hastily disposing the dead bodies of men and horses to form 
a rude barricade, Eeno's command prepared for defense. It 
was now noon, and the heat of the sun and the fever of their 
wounds produced an intolerable thirst in those who had been 
shot. Piteously they begged for water, and many of their com- 
rades dashed down the bank to the river. Few returned, for 
the Indians were watching for them. At last the commander 
was obliged to forbid such efforts, and whole and wounded must 
do without the drink which must cost such precious lives. 

How long they could hold out thus was a question. When 
would relief come ? What was Custer doing? They could send 
no messenger to the main command, nor could any reach them. 
Whether Custer was attacking the Indians they could not tell; 
there were such swarms about them, constantly firing, that they 
could hear nothing of that other fight, even then going on at 
the other side of the village. 

When the three battalions separated, Custer moved rapidly 
down the river to the ford, which ho endeavored to cross; but 
a portion of the Indians, not occupied with Reno, prevented 
this, and themselves crossed to the east side, where was Cus- 
ter's command. Ste}! by step the cavalry were driven back from 
the ford. The men had been dismounted, the horses being se- 
cured in a grove near by. The long march told upon the sol- 
diers, who were so worn out they could hardly stand. 



528 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER, 



Betreat was necessary, but it must not degenerate into flight. 
Danger there was, certainly j but some might escape. The In- 
dians might be held in check until Reno or Benteen- should come 
with assistance. Little did Custer guess how sorely his subord- 
inates were pressed bj- the common foe ; he still hoped for help 
from those who in turn were looking for help from him. 




srrnxo btjix. 
Companies L and F, commanded by Lieutenant Calhoun and 
Captain Yates, were posted to cover the rear. One was his 
brother-in-law, the other his friend since boyhood; but the com- 
mander could do no more for them than give them the post of 
honor. Unhesitatingly they obeyed, they and their commands, 
though there was not a man but what knew what the result 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 529 

would be. The enemy charged upon them, as the swift current 
of the Missouri sets in toward the bank. Slowly, surely, stead- 
ily, the earth is washed away by the waters; slowly, surely, 
steadily their numbers grew less. Not a man faltered, not a 
man fled; with their comrades falling around, each stood or 
knelt in his- place, firing with machine-like regularity at the ad- 
vancing foe until the last cartridge was gone ; then he died 

" With his back to the field and his feet to the foe." 
And the position of the bodies showed each man's place in the 
skirmish line. 

The two companies had been sacrificed in vain. Onward came 
the savages like tigers whose appetites are whetted, not cloyed, 
by the stream of blood that had been poured forth. The com- 
panies commanded by Capts. Custer and Smith had tried to cut 
their way to the river, but fell in the ravine. 

" 'Tis late before 
The brave despaii'." 

But they knew now that there was no hope for any of them. The 
Crow scout, Curly, begged the general to let him sliowliima 
way to escape. It was a niomentai*y pause, when the Indians 
were gathering for a fresh onset. A moment's thought of the 
wife and the mother who were praying for him, and he waved 
away the faithful scout and went back to die. 

There was but one company left. Custer and his staif, his 
brother, and the civilians who had accompanied the expedition 
(his youngest brother and nephew), with this compan}^ were 
grouped on a little knoll to the right qf that well defended 
skirmish line. Upon them came the Indians, and as the bullets 
came like swarms of bees, man after man went down. At Cus- 
ter's right fell Capt. Keogh ; at his feet lay his youngest brother, 
Boston Custer. At his left fought gallant Col. Tom Custer, who 
had won two medals for flags taken from the enemy in action; 
who, enlisting as a private, had won his commision bj- his courage. 
A ball struck him, and he fell ; raising himself, he fired one last 
shot; another bullet struck him ; his failing strength gave way, 
and at his brother's very feet he died. 

It was now a hand-to-hand fight between the hosts of Indians 
and the handful of white men. Discarding his revolver with 
which he had already killed three warriors, Custer drew his 
sabre. The savages pressed forward, each anxious to "count 
coup" upon the Big Yellow Chief, so long the terror of their kind- 



530 



GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 



red ; for he who kills an enemy by a bullet may not reckon him 
among his victims. Their blows are parried by the dexterous 
swordsman, whose only hope now is to sell his life as dearly as 
possible. Terrible is the price which the Sioux must pay for it, 
for three more of their bravest warriors fall by his hand. Un- 
deterred by the fate of their comrades, others press forward, but 
their efforts are unavailing. As the third warrior goes down be- 
fore that terrible sabre, E.ain-in-the-Face aims and tires. Custer 
falls ; the Indian is avenged. Only one man yet battles for life 
— the adjutant. Col. Cook. A ball pierces his heart, and he too, 
without a groan, lies at the feet of the dying commander. 




"WE HAVE KILLED THEM ALL!" — THE MESSENGER OF VICTORY. 

Custer had seen his officers and men die around him ; his ov/n 
eyes were the last to close upon that scene of slaughter. Hardly 
had his brave heart ceased to beat when the savage whom he 
would have hanged for the murder of two helpless old men bent 
over him, intentupon securing some ghastly troph}^ of vengeance. 
But his dusky brethren, devilish as they were, htid yet some 
germ of manliness remaining; a swordsman is in their eyes 
braver than a man who tights with rifle or pistol, and one so 
brave as Custer must be respected even in death. No one may 
count coup upon so brave a foe, for though Eain-in-the-Face fired 




84 



582 GENERAL GEORGE A. CUSTER. 

just before he fell, some other of the scores of bullets may have 
killed him. Closing about Custer's body, they would allow it to 
be disfigured by no warrior, even though he were brave and dis- 
tinguished and deeply injured, as Rain-in-the-Face. Foiled of his 
purpose, the savage turned to his arch-enemy's double, the Col. 
Custer who had arrested him; and dug out the heart that had 
never known fear. 

Then the wounded Indians came streaming back into camp. 
Sitting Bull, fearful of the result, had given orders that the 
lodges should be struck; but now the messenger of victory 
brought a different command. 

"We have killed them all; put up your lodges where they 
arc." 

There was no danger now to the Sioux ; Custer was dead. 

The story is told by the Indian and half-breed scouts that es- 
caped, and by the boasts of the victors. And the position of the 
bodies, as they were found on the battle-field, told more plainly 
than words how each man had fought. 

Not until the night of the 26th was Reno's command relieved 
by the advance of Gen. Gibbon, and the next day he learned why 
he had not received the help for which he had looked so earn- 
estly. Three hundred and fifteen men and thirteen commis- 
sioned officers fell upon that field, and none of their race knew 
in what danger they had been, with what despairing courage 
they had fought, until their mutilated bodies Avere found, each 
in its place, like the old Roman soldier at Pompeii. Two only 
were missing; the fate of one is still a myster}-; but the bleach- 
ing skeleton, afterward found in a neighboring thicket, told of 
one who had hoped against hope; who had made one last, des- 
pairing effort to elude the savage foe. 



CHAPTER XIX. 



WILD BILL, 

SIX feet one in his moccasins, deep chested, compactly built, 
with quiet gray eyes, clear and calm as a woman's, an al- 
,most womanish gentleness of expression, bright chestnut hair 
floating over his shoulders — it does not seem a promising picture 
to those who would hear of adventure. But that small, muscu- 
lar hand had taken deadly aim at scores of men j before the gaze 
of that eye many a bold border spirit had quailed. "He shoots 
to kill," says the admiring plainsman, with that cool disregard 
of human life which is so common in any newly settled country ; 
and the name of Wild Bill was a terror to evil-doers. 

Illinois was but a thinly populated state, containing fewer in- 
habitants than does the city of Chicago at this moment, when, 
in May, 1837, there was born, in La Salle County, James Butler 
Ilickok, better known to us as Wild Bill. The primitive state 
of the country doubtless had much to do with the nature of his 
tastes and favorite amusement — the practice of marksmanship, 
then an indispensable accomplishment in tl>e frontier state just 
east of the Mississippi. All the treasures that he could command 
were jealously hoarded, trades with his companions increased his 
stock of trifles invaluable to a boy, and at last he had enough to 
barter for a pistol. A little, single-barreled, flint-lock, old style 
pistol was a priceless treasure to the eight-year-old boy, and he 
only ceased to practic.e with it when ammunition gave out. Then 
every effort was made to got powder; the place of lead could be 
supplied by pebbles, but he must have powder, and all the lesser 
valuables that ho could accumulate wore traded oft' for that neces- 
sary article. 

The character of the services which he rendered to his family and 
country may readily be guessed. If a runaway hunting expedition 
into the woods was too severely punished, his enthusiasm found 
vent in shots at stray chickens or pigs. He was not appreciated, 



584 



WILD BILL. 



however, as he expected to be, and he was actually compelled 
to go to school whenever an occasional session gave opportunity. 
How far his education went, in the direction of books, is doubt- 
ful • certainly not very far ; but at any rate he learned to read, and 
eagerly devoured the few books of ad venture that came in his way. 
Happier times came, however, when he was about fourteen, for 
then he became the possessor of an excellent pistol and a rifle, 
and thus armed, he spent most of his time in the woods. Such 
were the ravages of the wolves at that period, that the state of- 




■WTLD BILL SHOOTING WOLVES. 



fered premiums for their scalj)S, and young Hickok now found 
his skill with the rifle and the pistol enabled him to earn no small 
income. But the story of Kit Carson's adventures had inflamed 
him with a passion for the West, and declaring to his brothers 
that he would one day beat anything that Carson had ever at- 
tempted, he proceeded to the realization of his ambition. A short 
experience as tow-path driver on the Illinois and Michigan canal, 
was ended by a fight with another driver. Though fists were the 
only weapons, and his antagonist was a powerful man, the boy's 
activity and endurance gave him a decided victory. After this, 
he returned home, and lived quietly for two years, or until he 
was about eighteen years old. 



WILD BlLt. 635 

The troubles in Kansas were then beginning, and thirsting for 
excitement, our hero betook himself thither. Collecting as much 
money as he could command, he set out on foot to St. Louis. 
Great as have been the changes of nearly thirty years, even in 
1855 this son of the prairie found much that was wonderful in 
the great city, inferior only to New Orleans and Cincinnati 
among those west of the Alleghanies. The railroads toward the 
west were then unheard of, but along the levee, from Bremen to 
Carondelet, stretched a line of magnificent steamers, that formed 
a main element of the city's prosperity. In all directions they 
went, from all directions they came; and after mature delibera- 
tion, our 3^oung adventurer took passage on one bound for the 
upper Missouri; his proposed destination being Leavenworth. 
History says it was a tedious journey, and those who can recall 
a steamboat trip on the Missouri will doubtless accept the state- 
ment as true. 

Arriving at Leavenworth, they found that the mob, unreason- 
ably suspicious of their intentions, would not j)ermit them to 
land. Where there's a will there's a way, and young Hickok, 
costuming himself as a roustabout, and engaging in their work, 
managed, while carrying off freightj to slip through the crowd, 
and gain the centre of the town. Once there, he soon joined the 
anti-slavery forces, led by Jim Lane, a recent immigrant from 
Indiana. Three hundred men, each armed with such weapons as 
taste or means dictated, formed the regiment that was called out 
for drill and rifle practice a few days after Hickok joined it. As 
Lane was complimenting his young recruit pn the excellence of 
his marksmanship, in which he easily beat every man present, 
the boy's quick eye saw a crew flying overheado Drawing a pis- 
tol from his pocket, he took aim, pulled the trigger, and the bird 
fell dead. He returned the weapon to his j^ocket without a word ; 
indeed, any comment would have been unheard in the wild cheer.- 
ing with which his comrades greeted the excellence of the shot. 
Thenceforth he was the darling of the regiment, that marked its 
favor by the bestowal of the nickname, Shanghai Bill. The rea- 
son of the first part of the name may be readily guessed, when 
we remember his stature, which was now joined to the slender 
build of a boy ; but why "Bill" was preferred to his own name, 
no one knows. It may have been a mistake; it may have had a 
reason; certain it is that the soubriquet clung to him through- 
out his life. 



536 WILD BILLo 

For two years he fought as a brave and excellent soldier to 
keep slavery out of Kansas, always recognized by Lane as the 
most effective man in the command. Then, entering a claim of 
a quarter section in Johnson County, he built a cabin, and settled 
down to farming. Though not yet of age, such was his reputa- 
tion that he was almost immediately elected constable. The 
conscientious and efficient way in which he did the work of this 
position did not endear him to those Missourians who made fre- 
quent predatory incursions on Kansas soil, and twice they burned 
his cabin during his absence from home. Giving up the idea of 
living quietly here, he engaged himself as driver for the Over- 
land Stage Company. In such a position it was not difficult to 
make a reputation, honorable or not, according to one's personal 
courage and prowess. Apparently a reckless driver, few acci- 
dents haj)pened to him, and as he drove the big Concord coach, 
bounding along like a wounded buffalo, at headlong speed down 
the hill into Santa Fe, the rough frequenters of the saloons, always 
fighting drunk and armed to the teeth, looked on in admiration. 
Victor in twenty fights or more, the best shot on the ^^lains, and 
never losing his presence of mind in an emergency requiring 
action, he was the hero of all who knew him. 

Such were the foundations of a reputation that before many 
years was to extend to the seaboard on either side of the conti- 
nent; a reputation even then shortly to be enhanced by success 
as a soldier. It was in the fall of 1858 that the Indians, break- 
ing out of the reservation on the Sweetwater, committed many 
outrages. Settlers were massacred, cabins burned, express rid- 
ers killed, and at last a large party attacked a stage-coach, kill- 
ing four men, and seriously wounding others. Nor was this alL 
The theft of horses was so frequent as to seriously cripple the 
service, and the danger was such that for more than two months 
express and stage were suspended on that division. Summoned 
to St. Joseph to attend a council that the officers held regarding 
the best means of proceeding against the Indians, Bill offered for 
consideration a plan which was immediately adopted. At the 
head of fifty well-armed and mounted men, they set out, on the 
29th of September, towards Powder Eiver, where they found an 
indistinct trail. It grew fresher as they went on, and chock full 
of dare-devil courage as each one was, they were not sorry to find 
that they were close upon the marauders. Suddenly, as they fol- 
lowed in the footsteps of the Indians, they found that the origin- 



WILD BILL. 



637 



al party had been joined by another of equal size, so that the 
enemy now numbered about two hundred. Many were the ex- 
pressions of opinion about the expediency of following a force 
four times as great as their own, but Bill cut the discussion short 
with: 

*' I'll shoot the first man that tries to go back," and none tried. 

Perhaps the threat was not needed ; at any rate, his men were 
filled with new enthusiasm, and went gaily onward to Clear 
Creek. Here the trail was but two or three hours old, for the 
Indians march but slowly when they do not fear pursuit; and 




WILD BILL (j. B. mCKOK.) 

nothing but the lateness of the day prevented an attack as soon 
as they could be overtaken. A halt was ordered. / 

" Do you see that little blue smoke over the hill-tops?" asked 
Bill, pointing due north. ""Well, that means an Indian camp. 
You boys just stop right hero and I'll locate the game." 

Leaving the trail and riding far to the windward, he reached 
a high point from which he could reconnoiter the camp. Satisfy- 
ing himself as to the exact force of the Indians, how their camp 
was pitched, and that the stock was corraled, not tethered, he 
returned to his men. 

Resting themselves and their horses, and getting everything in 
readiness for a fight^ it was ten o'clock when the signal was given 



588 WILD BILL. 

to mount and ride onward. Proceeding toward the camp witk 
due caution, they found that the Indians, as usual, had set no 
guard, trusting to their quick ears and light slumber to inform 
them of the approach of an enemy. The awakening came too 
late. Rousing themselves from the first sound sleep, they hardly 
realized what the confusion meant ; but as each came out of his 
lodge, he went down before the pistols of the attacking party, 
who were commanded to use no other weapons. The assault was 
a. complete success ; the fight quickly became a slaughter, the 
horses and ponies were secured, so thatthe Indians had no means 
of pursuit left to them. Returning to St. Joseph with their booty, 
all of the stolen horses and more than a hundred Indian ponies, 
a big spree celebrated their success. Of course a fight followed, 
but only one man was killed. 

Leaving the service of the Overland Stage Company, in 1859, 
Bill engaged to drive freight teams from Independence, Mo., to 
Santa Fe. It was while thus employed that he met with an ad- 
venture that came near being a fatal one; nothing less than an 
encounter with a huge cinnamon bear, strong and active as the 
grizzl}^, and possessed of greater powers of endurance. 

The teamster in charge of the eompanion wagon had fallen 
some distance behind when Bill saw, directly in front, as if dis- 
puting the right of way with him, a huge cinnamon bear and her 
two cubs. Moved with fear for the safety of her young, the ani- 
mal growled forbiddingly as the bold plainsman advanced towards 
her Armed with a pair of jDistols and a large bowie-knife. Bill felt 
no fear as to the result of the encounter, little knowing the strength 
or endurance of the enemy with which he had to contend. As 
the bear approached him, he took aim, and when she was within 
about twenty feet of him, fired. The ball struck her squarely on the 
forehead, but rebounded like a hailstone from the thick skull, 
serving only to inflict a trifling cut that infuriated the animal, 
already angry. No time remained for retreat to the safety of the 
wagon-top, for in the next instant the bear sprang upon him, bury- 
ing her long, sharp claws in his flesh. The second pistol disabled 
one paw, but rearing uj^on her hind legs the bear grappled with 
him alTnost like a human antagonist. His left forearm was 
crushed, his breast ploughed in bloody seams by the claws, his 
shoulder torn, his cheek laid open, but time after time the long 
knife was plunged into the huge brown carcass, until the blood 
of both antagonists, brute and human, flowing in rivulets from 



mLt> BlLt. 



630 



wounds, soaked the ground on which they fought. Now his foot 
slips, and he falls to the earth, the bear over him, holding his 
left arm in her mouth ; but with almost superhuman strength he 
reverses their positions, and again and again buries his dripping 

knife in her flesh. At last 
a deadly gash across the 
throat severs the wind- 
pipe, and his terrible an- 
tagonist is dead. Faint 
with loss of blood and 
severe exertion, he lies 
beside her, only able, 
when his companion at 
last comes up, to point 
feebly to the dead bear 
and his own wounds. For 
two months he lay help- 
less, and several more had 
passed before he was able 
to go to work again. 

He did not, on his re- 
covery, again enter the 
employment o f t h e 
freighters, but took a 
situation, offered by the 
Overland Stage Co., as 
watchman and hostler at 
Eock Creek Station, fifty 
miles west of Topeka. 

WILD BILL'S FIGHT WITH THE BEAR. ^^j^ ^.^^ ^ ^.^j^^ ^^^^ 

where generally about twenty-five horses were kept. Bill's duties 
were more in the way of protecting the animals from the thieves 
so plentiful in that part of the country, than in attending to the 
horses, an assistant being provided for the latter purpose. They 
were lodged in a "dug-out," a thatched cabin built on the hillside, 
so that the back and part of the side walls were formed of earth, 
the remainder of the cabin being of logs. A horse-blanket formed 
the only partition between kitchen and bed-room. More commo- 
dious and pretentious were the buildings used as stables ; and 
strong enough to def}', when locked, any ordinary assault. Here, 
in this lonely cabin on the hill-side, the two men passed the fall 




540 WILD BILL. 

of 1861, the monotony of this life only broken by the daily ar- 
rival of the stage with news from the outer world*. Exciting 
news it was, for the papers told of the contest even then in pro- 
gress. But those were the days when men enlisted "for the 
war," rather than for two months, since no one wanted to be a 
soldier longer than this trifling conflict should last. 

About a dozen miles from this station was the rendezvous of a 
gang of horse-thieves, who occasionally committed highway rob- 
ber}^ Like many such bands, they tried to attach themselves to 
the military service ; during the whole war, the guerillas, or 
bushwhackers, claiming to belong to one of the two armies, 
made odious the name of that to which thev were attached. The 
McCandlas gang, as this was called from its leaders, two brothers 
of that name, was the most prominent in that portion of the state, 
pretending that they were commissioned to collect horses and 
enlist recruits for the Confederate army. The horses of the 
Overland, at Rock Creek, numerous and in good condition, were a 
tempting prize, of which they were resolved to become possessed. 
Bill, too, the best shot in the state, and utterly fearless, would be 
a most valuable addition to their numbers. But threats and jaer- 
suasions proved useless. 

" When you want these horses come and take them, and if you 
want me, you'll find me here." 

Such was the answer which he gave to a party of five, on the 
morning of the 16th of December. The outlaws rode on — he was 
too formidable to be attacked by such a force — and Bill prepared 
for their return. His companion was out hunting, and could not 
be expected to come back in time to render any assistance. The 
stables were locked, the door and the one window of the dug- 
out secured, his weapons — a large bore rifle, two revolvers and 
two bowie-knives — carefully examined. 

It was three o'clock in the afternoon of the short winter day 
when the two McCandlas boys, with eight of their most desper- 
ate followers, rode up to the cabin. Finding the doors of the 
stables locked, and the house prepared for defense, they yet 
trusted that their numbers would inspire the watchman with 
fear. 

" Come out o' yer shell," yelled one of the leaders with an 
oath. " Ef yer don't, thar'll be a small-sized murder at Eock 
Creek, and the Company'll hev to hire another watchman." 

" I'll shoot the first man that tries to oj^en a stable door," an- 



WILD BILL. 



541 



swered Bill; "and ef thar's an}- murdevin' done at Eock Ci'eek 
this arternoon thar'li be more'n one corpse to bury." 

'' Surround the house and give him no quarter!" 

"Come and fight me, j'ou cowardly dog I" 

We omit the most emphatic words in the conversation; such 
words as cause the Indian to call our language " talk damn." It 
must be understood that the whole proceedings were liberally 
garnished with such expletives. Tying their horses to surround- 
ing trees, they began to batter the door with a log which lay near 




FIGHT WITH THE MCCANDLAS GANG. 



by ; the defence soon gave way, and Jim McCandlas, armed with 
revolver and bowie-knife, leaped into the room, his finger on the 
trigger, ready to shoot. But Bill was too quick for him ; a rifle- 
ball through his heart, and drawing up his legs, as though to 
make room for his companions, the desperado fell dead. In quick 
succession three shots from Bill's pistol killed as many more of 
his assailants, and the fight became more furious every moment. 
The remainder of the gang had now surrounded Bill, who pour- 
ed shots right and left, and thrust desperately with his knife ; 
but the odds were great, and when one of them struck him over 



54^ Wild bill 

the head and knocked him backward, Jack JVIcCandlas jumped 
upon him, with knife ready to plunge into his heart. Bill strug- 
gled, freed his right arm, and placing the muzzle of his pistol 
right against his enemy's breast, fired as the knife descended. 
The hand of the dying man dropped helpless, he rolled to the 
floor, and his- almost victim regained his feet. The blood poured 
from his own wounds and mingled with that of his adversaries 
as Bill fought on, like a tiger at bay. On the floor of the hut 
lay six of the desperadoes, dead, and two desperately wounded. 
These, w^ith the two still uninjured, now beat a retreat^ the latter 
managing to regain their horses and ride awayj one of the 
wounded men likewise escaped, but afterward died of his injuries , 
but as the other ran. Bill snatched a gun from the hunter, who 
just came up at this time, and fired at him; it is needless to say 
he fell dead in his tracks. 

" All of a sudden," said the hero of this fight, when telling of 
it afterward, '■' it seemed as if my heart was on fire. I was bleed- 
ing everywhere. I rushed out to the well and drank from the 
bucket, and then tumbled down in a faint." 

His companion carried him into the house, where he lay un- 
conscious for nearly' an hour. The arrival of the stage then 
brought help, for one of the passengers possessed some surgical 
skill, and he revived him and dressed his wounds. 

" I remember that one of them struck me with his gun, and 1 
got hold of a knife; and then I got kind o' wild like, and it was 
all cloudy, and I struck savage blows, following the devils up 
from one side of the room to the other and into the corners, 
striking and slashing until I knew every one was dead." 

Such was all that he could then tell of the fight. As his strength 
returned, so that he need no longer speak while gasping for 
breath, the earlier j^art of the conflict was detailed, and the two 
who had escaped confirmed the story by their own independent 
account. The listening bystanders caught at his expression, and 
henceforth the name of Shanghai Bill was dropped in favor of 
that which he bore until his death. But the victory was dearly 
bought; for months he lay helj)less, so severe were his wounds, 
and nearly a year had elapsed before he was entirely well. 

Going to Leavenworth on his recovery, he was appointed Bri- 
gade Wagon Master by Gen. Premont, then in command there. 
The war was now at its height, and those states in which, like 
Missouri and Kansas, both sides were represented in almost equal 



WILD BILL. 543 

numbers, were the scenes of the fiercest conflicts between small 
parties. Bill's first trip with a train was toward Sedalia, a few 
days after his appointment. The wagons, laden with provisions, 
were a tempting prize to the Confederates, and on the third day 
from their departure they were attacked by a company of Gen. 
Price's command, The force was small, numbering only twelve 
men, and judging the odds too great for successful resistance, 
they yielded without firing a shot. The leader, however, was a 
man of another mettle. Turning his horse towards Kansas City, 
he spurred onward, followed by a least fifty of the attacking 
party. Mile after mile they rode, and four of the pursuers fell 
dead before the fugitive's pistol; bullets fell like hail around 
him, but none touched him. At last he was safe within the lines, 
and his assailants returned to their booty. 

Bill reported the facts to the commander at this post, who de- 
tailed two companies to assist him in recovering the property. 
He felt himself disgraced by this loss of has first charge, and was 
eager to avenge himself. The Confederates, elated at their suc- 
cess, were taken by surj)rise; a short and decisive fight followed 
the charge which Wild Bill led into their ranks as they were 
marching towards headquarters, and Bill conducted the train in 
triumph to Sedalia. 

He had not enlisted in the army, but voluntarily took the place 
of a sharp-shooter in the battle of Pea Ridge, in March, 1862 ; 
lying behind a large log on a hill overlooking Cross-Timber 
Hollow, for nearly four hours, picking oif the Confederates. His 
victims numbered thirty -five, and were o^ all ranks, from the 
private soldier to Gen. McCulloch. The attention of a Confeder- 
ate company was directed towards the source of this murderous 
fire, and they charged upon him, riddling the log with bullet- 
holes. But a company of his comrades saw his danger, and 
charging down the hill, came to a hand-to-hand encounter with 
the Eebs, which proved to be the hottest engagement of the bat- 
tle, more than half on both sides being killed. 

Soon after this battle, Gen. Curtis engaged Bill as a spy, with 
orders to enter Gen. Price's lines and get all the information he 
could about that officer's intentions. Every efi'ort was being 
made to carry Missouri into the Confederacy; her people were 
in sj^mpathy with the more southern states, and the Government 
was seriously alarmed at the stand she had taken. Many Mis- 
sourians had flocked to Pi-ice's army, and steps must be immedi- 



544 WILD BILL. 

ately taken to drive him out of the borders of the state. Bill 
was given a fine horse and instructed to make his way into the 
Confederate lines as speedily as possible, by any means that he 
chose. Assuming the name of Bill Barnes, and representing him- 
self as the brother of a man recently killed in the Confederate 
army in Texas, he made a wide circuit, entering the state of Ar- 
kansas somewhat south of the center, and went to Little Eock. 
There he enlisted in a company of mounted rangers organizing 
to join Price. 

The Missourian had fallen back to Elk Eiver, where he was 
reinforced by Gen. Shelby, and the united forces awaited the 
coming of Gen. Curtis, who, with a slightly inferior command, 
was following swiftly from the north. Bill was appointed an 
orderly within a week after his enlistment, a position enabling 
him to execute his plans all the better. As the two armies lay 
drawn up in order of battle, separated only by the narrow creek, 
and waiting only for daylight to begin the battle, Gen. Price, 
who occupied the right, sent Bill with despatches to Shelby, who 
was on the left. Taking the papers from the hands of the gen- 
eral, Bill saluted with all the respectful grace he could command 
and rode directly towards the left. Once out of sight, however, 
he turned his course towards the company in which he had en- 
listed, and, addressing a certain braggadocio sergeant, said : 

"Jake Lawson, come out here; I want to see you a minute." 

A tall, lank Arkansan, whose joints appeared to be on the 
jumping-jack pattern, came lounging out of his tent. 

"Whatcher want?" he enquired, rolling a huge quid into his 
cheek. 

''I want to have some fun, that's what. Let's astonish these 
fellers that have never been under fire, and give 'em something 
to fight up to to-morrow." 

'' What shall it be — pistols at three paces, or hand to hand 
with the bowie ? Jist what yer like." 

"N^o," answered Bill, with some scorn; "the general can't af- 
ford to lose his men that way j but I'll bet my horse agin yourn 
that I kin ride closer to the Feds' line than you kin," 

"Humph!" answered Lawson, as he took a fresh "chaw," and 
turning on his heel strode back into his tent. 

"What's the matter, Jake? Are you afraid?" 

"No, I ain't afeared, but what's the sence or fun in such a 
d — d trick as that 'ere?" 



WILD BILL. 



545 



"Kone at all for them as as don't see any. I just wanted to see 
if you would go." 

"Kinder looks as ef Jake wasn't the reel stuff, arter all," 
remarked a bystander, and taunt and jeer soon drew Jake out 
again, resolved to disprove their opinion of his courage. Anx- 
iously were the two followed by the eyes of the whole company 
as they rode forward on what seemed truly a fool's errand. As 
they dashed onward, the Union pickets began to fire upon them. 







TAKING TO THE WATER. 



"Hold your fire," shouted the foremost man, "I'm "Wild Bill, 
trying to get into the lines." 

The Confederate, thus apprised of his companion's character, 
drew his pistol and took aim, but before he could pull the trigger 
aljullet went crashing through his brain, and he reeled and fell 
from his horse. The riderless steed galloped onward, and stoop- 
ing from his saddle, Wild Bill caught the bridle and led it beside 
his own. The passage of the creek was fraught with the greatest 
danger, as his progress was necessarily slow, and the Confeder- 
ates had gathered in great force on the bank. Thick as hail the 
bullets fell around him from at least fifty rifles, but he escaped 
unhurt to the farther side. In conseq^uence of this exposure of 



546 WILD BILL. 

their designs, the Confederates broke camp that night, and re- 
treated farther towards the Arkansas, swearing over the way 
they had been deceived. 

Gen. Curtis continued the pursuit, and before long desired Wild 
Bill to again enter the Confederate line. A thorough disguise 
was of course necessary. Of exquisite manly beauty of face and 
form, and very neat about his person, he made himself into a first- 
class specimen of the average Arkansan of the lowest class, 
sloucby in build and bearing. Accompanied by Nat. Tuckett, an 
old friend, he again made a wide circuit around the Confederate 
army, and proceeding to Texas enlisted under Kirby Smith. 
That general was about to move up into Arkansas, where Curtis 
was still pressing Price and Shelby, and struck his tents a few 
days aftei* Bill and his companion joined. Smith crossed the 
Arkansas near Lewisburg, and both armies halted in line of 
battle about one thousand yards apart. General Curtis began a 
brisk shelling, in order to dislodge the enemy from the protec- 
tion of their breastworks, but the fire appeared to be wholly in- 
effectual. 

For more than an hour this state of things continued. Sudden- 
ly, from the breastworks leaped two horsemen, who rode at full 
speed towards the Union lines. For a moment the Federal 
troops wondered what this meant, then their wild cheering 
echoed the shots that the Eebels poured upon the riders; they 
were trying to escape. Breathlessly they watched, as a dozen 
cavalrymen dashed after the fugitives j now two of the pursuers 
distance the others; now the first riders reach a broad ditch; the 
horse of one clears it at a bound, his companion falls, as a bullet 
from the pistol of one of the nearest pursuers whistles through 
the air; the remaining man wheels his horse around and levels 
his revolver; he is too far off for them to hear the reports, but 
they see two puffs of smoke, and see the two foremost graycoats 
fall beside their horses; the others are too far behind him to 
overtake him, and he rides into the lines waving his hat in tri- 
umph; but yet he has a soldier's tear for his fallen comrade, 
whom he returns to bury. 

''Why did you run such a risk?" asked his comrades of Wild 
Bill. " You could have stolen into our lines in the night." 

" Oh," he answered, *' mate and I wanted to show them cussed 
Eebs what a Union soldier could do. We've been with 'em now 
for more'n a month, and heard nothing but brag, and we thought 



WILD BILL. 547 

we'd take it out of 'cm. But if they have killed my mate they 
shall pay a big price for it/' 

Asking and obtaining leave of absence, "Wild Bill went to 
Leavenworth, where he met young William Cody, better known 
in later days as Buffalo Bill. Their acquaintance was one of sev- 
eral years' standing, and each had a high regard for the other. 
Engaging to take a Grovernment train to Eolla, Mo., Wild Bill 
invited Billy to accompany him, and the offer was gladly ac- 
cepted. The train reached its destinationin safety, and the com- 
panions, aged respectively twenty-five and seventeen, continued 
their journey to Saint Louis, to have some fun. Wild Bill owned 
a fine horse, that had done good service in scouting expeditions, 
and finding, on their arrival in the city, that the September races 
would take place in a few days, decided to enter "Old Moun- 
tain." 

Under no other circumstances is a man so easily deceived as 
when backing up a favorite horse, and all the funds of both were 
put up. 

"Old Mountain ain't a handsome horse," said Wild Bill, con- 
fidentially, to Billy, " but I know it's in him, though the other 
fellows don't suspect him, and are willing enough to bet against 
him. "We'll make a clean sweep of all, I know." 

Billy listened reverentially j who should know anything about 
horses if his " companion guide and friend" did not? All their 
ready money was staked — no hedging, — and now they bet the 
horse against S250 cash. All the proceeds were to be equally di- 
vided. At last the eventful day came. Old Mountain did his best, 
urged onward by Billy, who certainly could not be accused of 
the tricks which some jockeys are said to practise, to secure the 
victory for another and greater favorite; but the endeavors of 
both were useless, and the race was lost. Penniless and friend- 
less, now, in the midst of the great city, our two friends found 
themselves. There was only one thing thatpresented itself, and 
upon the suggestion Wild Bill immediately acted. Going to mil- 
itary headquarters and re-engaging himself as scout, he thus 
secured twenty dollars ; this sum he turned over to the boy, for 
whose pitiable plight he fell himself largely responsible, and who 
was thus enabled to return to Leavenworth. Bill proceeded to the 
southwest, and learning at Springfield that Gen. Curtis was still 
on the Arkansas Kiver, reported to that officer for duty. 

Curtis was extremely anxious to find out what Price intended 
35 



548 WILD BILL. 

to do, suspecting that another invasion of Missouri was intended. 
Wild Bill was therefore despatched, for the third time, to enter 
the lines and obtain as much information as possible. Making 
the usual wide circuit, he passed through to Texarkana, where he 
represented himself as a Texas cattle-drover. Thence he rode 
onward to Ouachita County, where he traded his horse to an an- 
cient darkey for a venerable jack and a dilapidated suit of 
clothes, much to the old "uncle's" astonishment and delight. 
Exchanging his gun for one which might almost serve Jefferson 
when Rip awakes from his long sleep, he arrayed himself in the 
baggy butternut trousers, faded to a dingy yellow, but the orig- 
inal color of which was attested by an immense old patch which 
''old auntie's" unskillful needle had sewn upon one knee; in the 
blue vest, across which ran broad stripes of red ; in the coat, match- 
ing the ground of the vest in hue, and ornamented with large 
brass buttons, which might have satisfied the ladies' late passion 
for variety in such articles, since no two were alike. The clean- 
shaven face, where the silky moustache had drooped in solitary 
glory, the shining locks of darker hair, were no longer to be seen. 
A rough brown mop covered the well-set head, a ragged beard 
concealed the. thin and sensitive lips and the firm jaw. The sin- 
gular grace and dignity of carriage which made his six feet one 
appear the ideal stature for a hero, was discarded for the shufiling 
gait and slouchy manner which he well knew how to assume. 
Under such a disguise as this, who would recognize a man noted 
for his great personal beauty ? 

His appearance and manner, and his offer to fight as desperate- 
ly as a certain apocryphal dog, of whose exjiloits he told long 
yarns, if only they would furnish him ammunition, created consid- 
erable amusement among Price's men, who promised themselves 
rare fun with this green recruit. But great as was the change 
in his appearance, it was not enough to conceal him from the 
sharp eyes of a corporal, who had known him in the days of 
Jake Lawson. Whether he unconsciously resumed the easy, 
graceful bearing which was his by nature, or some other circum- 
stance betrayed that he was not what he pretended to be, certain 
it is that the corporal's suspicions were aroused, and then confirm- 
ed ; and he was speedy in reporting at headquarters that Wild 
Bill, the Union spy, was in camp. ]S"o time was to be lost, lest 
the fearless scout, so valuable to the enemy, escape; and mili- 
tary law condemned him to be executed the next morning. 



WILD BILL. 



549 



Night came on ; in a small log hut lay the condemned man, his 
arms securely pinioned, and his every movement watched by an 
armed guard, lately his comrade. But Price had been making 
forced marches, for Curtis was after him with twice as many men 
as in his army ; and, tired out with the long day's travel, the 
guard fell asleep. The prisoner was bound securely, and the 
slightest movement would awaken him from his doze, thought 
the soldier. Without, the wind howled and shrieked, the rain 

fell in torrents ; within, the pris- 
oner ruefully thought over his 
condition, saying to himself how 
easy it would be to escape if 
his hands wereionly free. But as 
he pulled and tugged at the 
cords which secured them, the 
knots seemed only tightened ; 
his wrists were cruelly abraded 
by the rough rope. A sudden 
gleam in a far corner, as a 
flash of lightning shows him, for 
a moment, the whole room with 
all the distinctness of day-light, 
and stealthily as a panther he 
creeps towards it. The big bon- 
anza is an old, rusty case-knife, 
of which only a portion of the blade remains. The handle is stuck 
in the auger-hole in which the blade had been partly hidden, and 
he patiently saws at the rope about his wrists. Back and forth, 
until the last fiber gives way ; then, his hands once more free, he 
grasps the knife, useless for the purpose of thrusting, and with 
noiseless step approaches the door, against which leans the sleep- 
ing guard. The knife is drawn across the sentinel's throat, and 
from vein and artery gushes the life-blood. Arraying himself 
in the dead man's uniform, and arming himself with the musket 
that has fallen from the lifeless grasp, he makes his way, through 
the darkness and the storm, out of the Confederate lines to Cur- 
tis' camp. 

But "Wild Bill felt that he was too well known in the Confed- 
erate army west of the Mississippi to make another such attempt 
anything but suicidal, and though he continued to scout, he pos- 
itively refused to enter the enemy's lines again. We hear of no 




KILLING THE SLEEPING SENTINEL. 



550 WILD BILL. 

special adventure until 1864, when Price invaded Missouri the 
second time. Wild Bill was then attached to the command of 
Gen. Davis, who was only too glad to secure his services. 

One day in the latter part of July, the scout, weary of long in- 
action, started out on an independent expedition. Hiding quietly 
along, he came suddenly ujion three men, well-mounted and 
armed. 

" Dismount and surrender," cried the three in a breath. Then, 
seei-ng a momentary hesitation on his part, they put their hands 
to their pistols, threatening to shoot if he delayed any farther. 
Bill's right hand had hung down beside his horse, unseen by the 
Eebels, who were on his left; it grasped his revolver. Quick as 
thought he raised it, and they had hardly divined his intentions 
before two fell dead, the third wounded mortall}'. The dying 
man, nerving himself to one last effort, pulled the trigger of his 
pistol, and the bullet whistled past the scout, but without injur- 
ing him. Bill secured the three horses, and led them back to 
camp, where he made report to his commander, and turned over 
to him the spoils of war. G-en. Davis, suspecting that all was 
not right about the hoi'ses, said to him, with a sternness to which 
Bill was unaccustomed : 

"You have been out of camp for four days without leave; 
where have you been, and where did you get those horses?" 

" I'm not a private soldier, and as a scout I go where I please. 

I've turned the horses over to you, and it's none of your d d 

business where I got 'em." 

This answer only seemed to increase the officer's suspicions 
that the horses had been stolen, and was, besides, a gross breach 
of discipline in its disrespect to a superior. Bill was therefore 
sent to the guard-house, and ordered under arrest until further 
notice. We may imagine the general's surprise when, on mak- 
ing the rounds that night, to personally inspect the camp, he saw 
Wild Bill salute him with the most respectful gravity that one 
soldier could show another. Without a word to the scout he rode 
directly to the guard-house, and demanded of the officer on duty 
there why his men had let Wild Bill escape. 

" I beg pardon, sir," was the answer, " but he has not escaped. 
He is still under guard." 

" Let me see him for myself." 

But in Bill's place they found a man whose term of arrest had 
expired that evening, and who, to give the popular scout his lib- 



WlLt) BILL, 651 

6rty, had exchanged clothes with him and allowed him thus to 
escape when the twilight prevented the guards from detecting 
the trick; all the more readily deceived, perhaps, because not 
unwillingly. The soldier's devotion was not without its reward, 
for, touched by the feeling displayed, Gen. Davis invited both 
men to headquarters, and regaled them,with his choicest Cognac, 
kept for special occasions. Now more courteously asked, Bill 
told all the circumstances of his trip, first begging pardon for 
his disrespect; and at his request, he was permitted to retain, for 
his own use, one of the animals. This steed, a beautiful black 
mare, evidently of full-blooded stock, became famous for her in- 
telligence and docility when her owner rode her, though she 
would permit no one else to back her. To the training of Black 
Nell Bill devoted all his leisure time, and felt himself richly re- 
paid by the result reached in a short time. The dropping of hi.s 
hand in her sight was sufficient to make her crouch on the 
ground, and not stir until the signal was given to rise ; pursued 
once by bushwhackers, this saved his life, as he disappeared from 
sight in the long grass of the prairies, and the puzzled pursuers 
passed him. So obedient was she, that he once induced her to 
mount a billjard table in a saloon and drink a quart of whiskey. 
This happened in Springfield, and even the admiring bystanders 
could hardly regret that the good liquor should be bestowed on 
such a horse. 

The fact that many Indians were employed in the Confedei'ate 
service, created some alarm in Kansas, where it was reported 
that these savage enemies would soon attempt a massacre. A 
Sioux chief. Conquering Bear, reported to Gen. Curtis, who was 
now at Leavenworth, that the Choctaws were arming, and would 
soon be upon the settlements. By Wild Bill's urgent request, he 
was permitted to go, unaccompanied by any one but Conquering 
Bear, to investigate the state of aftairs. Proceeding, then, to the 
Sioux camp near Lawrence, the chief protested his friendship in 
the strongest terms. Leaving the lodges of his people, they had 
not gone far when he uttered a jieculiar whoop and disajjpeared 
in the bushes. Bill immediately found himself surrounded by a 
band of the hostile Choctaws, who rushed upon him from cs'ery 
side. Only the darkness and the wonderful sagacity of Black 
Noll saved him, and by giving the Choctaw war-whoop occasion- 
ally, and hiding in the long grass, he succeeded in- so puzzling 
them as to his location that ho escaped without injury. 



552 WILD BILL. 

Vowing vengeance upon Conquering Bear, he obtained, on re- 
porting to Gen. Curtis, a week's leave of absence. His acquaint- 
ance with the Sioux language and manners enabled him to find 
an ally in a young warrior of that tribe whom he found on the 
streets of Lawrence. Liberality with whisky and trinkets ce- 
mented the young brave's alliance with the white man, and by 
his agency Conquering Bear was allured to a lonely spot about 
three miles from town, the promise of a rich reward attracting 
the chief. Without any suspicion of a double meaning in this 
expression, the Indian came, and as he and the young warrior 
paced slowly along, Bill sprang from his hiding-place. A mo- 
ment they eyed each other^ each seeming charmed by the other's 
gaze, as if two rattlesnakes should yield one to the other; but 
the dead silence was at length broken by Bill, as he drew his 
pistols and threw one to the savage chief. 

" Defend yourself, you treacherous, Ij^ing red-skin. '^ 

But Conquering Bear knew too well the deadly aim of his an- 
tagonist, and refused to fight with pistols. An eff'ort to parley 
was unavailing. 

" If you don't fight, I'll shoot you like the good-fbr nothing 
dog that you are," Bill hissed out from between his teeth, and the 
trembling Indian chose the bowie as the weapon to be used. A 
level spot was selected, and the young Sioux instructed to pre- 
pare it for the duel by clearing it of leaves and twigs inside a cir- 
cle ten feet in diameter. The field of battle was prepared, but 
Conquering Bear stood motionless. 

" If you don't come and fight I'll shoot you dead in your 
tracks." 

Aroused to defense by the threat, he leaped into the ring, knife 
in hand, and the fight began. As the white man, stepping one 
foot forward, made a pass with the long, keen-edged blade, the 
Indian drew back as if to make a rush at him ; now with a tiger- 
ish thirst for blood each leaps upon the other, his left arm clasp- 
ing his antagonist's body, his right hand holding his knife, the 
two blades edge to edge. So they cling together, each striving 
to secure some advantage, however trifling; butinvain; they are 
too evenly matched for that, and as the tense muscles, that have 
stood out in great ridges on the white and the dusky body , relax, 
they rest a moment. The gray eyes gleam like steel as they 
turn with every movement of the savage, and the dark orbs of 
the Indian are no less watchful. Ten minutes pass, and Conquer- 



WILD BILL. 



553 



ing Bear again springs forward. Wild Bill is notunready forthe at- 
tack, and once more the two broad and shining blades clash and 
flash in the siin-light. Both saw that the grasp with which they 
had held each other would mean certain death to the weaker, and 
each distrusted his own muscular power as contrasted with that 
of his assailant, so that both avoided the method first adopted, 
and by vigorous passes endeavored to surprise his antagonist. 

For some time each was 
on his guard, so that the 
passes of his enemy were 
in vain; at last Bill sees 
his opjiort unity, and 
cuts at the Indian's heart; 
but a medal on the broad, 
tawny breast received the 
blow, and the knife glanc- 
ed aside, though not with- 
out inflicting a gash sev- 
eral inches long in the 
chief's side. But the thrust, 
so nearly successful, has 
exposed his own body, 
and the savage makes a 
desperate lunge at his an- 
tagonist's heart. The 
scout's left arm, however, 
CONQUERING BKAK. has scrvcd as a shield for 

the more vital part, and the flesh is stripped from the bone, from 
the shoulder half-way to the elbow. Still they fought on, though 
both grew weaker andweaker every moment, as the blood flowed 
from these terrible wounds to the ground. Conquering Bear 
saw that victory must come quickly if it precede death, and 
once more made a pass at the scout's heart; but the blow was 
skillfully parried, and in another instant the keen edge of the 
white man's knife was drawn across the tawny throat; for a mom- 
ent the swarthy form swayed in the air, the head thrown back- 
ward, then fell to the earth, the blood gushing from the ghastly 
wound. 

The young Sioux bound up Wild Bill's arm, and they proceed- 
ed to Lawrence, where more skillful surgical aid was obtained ; but 
for many a year he felt tlie consequences of the terrible gash. 




564 WILD BILL. 

Through the next year or two we need not follow him, since the 
period was marked by no adventure of interest. Peacefully trap- 
ping among the Sioux on the Niobrara, the young warrior who 
had been with him when he fought Conquering Bear was his con- 
stant companion; while this friend's sister, the ideal Indian mai- 
den, pure and beautiful, was untiring in her devotion to the 
handsome white stranger. Returning to the states, Bill went 
directly to Springfield, Mo., then (1866) noted for its gambling 
dens and gamblers. Our hero was by no means avei'se to this 
amusement or occupation, whichever it may be termed, and threw 
himself, heart and soul, into the popular diversion. This town, 
never noted as particularly quiet, was then the rendezvous for 
the most desperate of those Missourians who had been in either 
army. Ultra-loyalty was the guiding principle of the Regulators, 
a band of men in the service of the state, but paid out of the 
national treasury, who had adopted as their war-cry: "A swift 
bullet and a short rope for returned Rebels !" This feeling was 
doubtless in consequence of the severity which, in the early days 
of the war, the " Southern sympathizers" had treated all who 
seemed at all loyally disposed. It was the old story of every 
war: the non-combatants " nursing their wrath to keep it warm;" 
the real fighters brave and determined soldiers, but ready to ac- 
cept peace as better than war. 

"When the war closed I buried the hatchet," said our hero, 
"and I won't fight now unless I'm put upon." 

It may be readily guessed from this that he was not a Regula- 
tor, but one of the law and order party. 

Among the denizens of Springfield was a certain Dave Tutt, 
who hud been a Rebel scout. Bill had killed Dave's mate, and 
there was no love lost between them. Dave had tried for some 
time to i:)ick a quarrel with Bill, but with a laudable anxiety to 
keep out of a fight, our hero had rather avoided him; especially 
by refusing to play cards with him, since he well knew how easily 
a difficulty could be raised in such a case. One night, as Bill was 
sitting in the saloon which both were accustomed to frequent, 
playing poker with an acquaintance of both, he took out his 
watch, and laying it on the table, said : 

*<I'll play you a twenty-five dollar limit until one of us is broke, 
or until twelve o'clock. I can't play any later than that." 

His antagonist agreed to this, and according to one of the pro- 
posed conditions, the game would have come to an end very soon, 



WILD BILL, 



555 



as Bill, in a very shoi't time, completely cleaned him out; but Tutt 
stood behind the loser, and lent him money to continue the game. 
More than two hundred dollars had changed hands in this way, 
when Tutt, exasperated by the ill luck of the man he had been 
backing, said : 

"Bill, you've got plenty of money, — pay me that forty dollars 
yer owe me in that horse trade." 

Bill handed out the bills, and Tutt continued, in an insulting 
manner: 




SPOIMNG KOR A FIGHT. 



"Yer owe me thirty-five dollars more; yer lost itplayin' with 
me t'other night, don't 3'er remember?" 

"I think yer wrong, Dave," answered Bill, quietly; "it's only 
twenty-five dollars. Yer saw me set down how much I overbet, 
and here's the figgcrs for it." 

Dave answered not a word, until he had possessed himself of 
Bill's watch; then: 



556 ■ WILD BILL. 

"I'll keep this here watch until yer pay me that thirty-five 
dollars/' 

" I don't want to make a row here," said Bill, in a low, deter- 
mined voice; "it's a decent house, and I don't want to injure the 
keeper. You'd better put that watch back on the table." 

"With an ugly grin, Tutt put the watch in his pocket and walk- 
ed off without a word. The scout's face was white with rage, but 
by a strong effort he controlled himself, and not all the persua- 
sions of the bystanders could induce him to fight. For two days 
he kept close in his room, anxious to keep out of a fight if it were 
at all possible ; but when one of them said to him : 

" Dave Tutt says he's a goin' ter pack that wr.tch across the 
squar' at noon ter-morrer, and tell folks when its twelve o'clock." 

Human nature could bear it no longer. 

" Dave Tutt shan't pack that watch across the square unless 
dead men kin walk." 

A little before noon, the next day, having cleaned and loaded 
his pistols, Bill made his way to the public square, where he 
found a considerable crowd of Tutt's friends and relatives. Many 
and loud were the jeers with which they saluted him, but Bill 
had not come to exchange words with them. As he came up 
from the south, he saw Tutt standing on the west side, near the 
courthouse. Unaccompanied, Dave stai'ted across the open sjiace, 
and Bill moved towards him. Tutt then showed his pistol, but 
before he could point it, Bill was equally well prepared. Dead 
silence reigned, as the bystanders breathlessly waited to see 
which would shoot first. Both were famous shots, and the two 
reports were so close together that the spectators could not tell 
which fired first; but when they saw Tutt reel and fall, they 
knew that he had, in dying, thrown up his arm so that his bullet 
went over his antagonist's head, and that Bill had fired before 
Dave had pulled the trigger. 

But, confident of his marksmanship, Wild Bill did not wait to 
see the effect of his shot. Wheeling around, with his revolver 
still leveled, he said to Tutt's friends, who had already drawn 
their weapons : 

" Ain't you satisfied, gentlemen ? Put up yer shootin' irons, or 
there'll be more dead men here," 

"It war a fair fight," they said, as they obediently "put up 
their shootin' irons," 

With a most praiseworthy desire for justice, Bill delivered him- 



WILD BILL. 



557 



self up to the law ; he was tried the next day, and acquitted, 
since he had acted in self-defense. The decision of the juiy was 
based rather upon the golden rule than upon any legal form or 
precedent, but like many of the same kind, it gave entire satis- 
faction to all concerned. 

Leaving Springfield shortly after this, Wild Bill again went to 
trapping in Nebraska, but onlj' for a brief jjeriod. Having little 
luck where he first tried for beaver, he determined to change his 




tVIN T YOU SATISFIED. 



location, and on his way to the southeastern j^ortion of the ter- 
ritory, as it was then, hitched his horse before a country saloon, 
went in and called for a drink. With an expression of curiosity 
on his face, the saloon-keeper set out the black bottle and the 
glass, which Bill proceeded to use. As he raised the glass to his 
lips, a sudden push in the back splashed the liquor into his face, 
and sent him staggering against the counter. One of the half- 
dozen herders, all half-drunk, had taken this means to express 
their resentment at the stranger's lack of courtesy in drinking by 
himself, Avhen he might have company for the asking. A well- 
directed blow, planted full between the eyes, sent the herder 
reeling backward over the boxes on which he and his compan- 



558 WILD BiLt 

ions had been lounging. Turning to the other herders, Bill en- 
deavored to convince them that this was a perfectly proper mode 
of proceeding, but tli'ey would not listen to him. 

"If yer don't believe me, then, I tell yer what I'll do. I'll 
fight any four of yer with pistols at five or fifteen paces, just as 
you like." 

"All right," answered the men, sobering up at the prospect 
of a fight. The bar-keeper was chosen umpire, the distance — fif- 
teen paces — marked off, and the combatants posted. 

" Air ye all ready ? One, two, three — fire I" 

As the sound of the last word died away, one man fell dead, 
but a ball had pierced Bill's right shoulder, so that that arm fell, 
limp and useless, to his side; but using his left hand with as 
much dexterity as his right, he fired three shots in rapid succes- 
sion, each one taking effect. Only one of his antagonists surviv- 
ed, and he was badly wounded. Bill set out on the same day 
towards Kansas City, judging that that was not a wholesome 
neighborhood for him ; and remained at that place until his 
wound was so far healed that he was able to accompany an ex- 
pedition against the Cheyennes under Black Kettle. Gens. Carr 
and Primrose were the commanders of the two forces, Wild Bill 
and Buffalo Bill being each chief of scouts in a divi?>ion. Hotly 
pursued for more than a month, the Indians were at last brought 
to bay on the north side of the "Washita^ in Indian Territory, 
where they had placed themselves in such a strong position that 
the most desperate fighting was required to dislodge them. But 
a charge from both front and rear at once drove them out of the 
woods, and though the advantage had only been gained with 
great loss to the troops, the yells of the soldiers seemed to say 
that they did not intend to stop fighting until the Indians were 
defeated. The two scouts, both famous for their marksmanship, 
did good execution ujion the Indians fleeing from covert to 
covert. With reckless courage they charged into the midst of 
the hostiles, firing with deadly effect as they rode. 

The Cheyenne chief saw his warriors falling thick around him, 
and knew there was no hope of victory. The Indian lacks the 
stubborn courage of the white man; the savage seldom, if ever, 
fights as Custer and his men fought on the Little Big Horn; and 
now Black Kettle turned and fled for his life. After him, regard- 
less alike of tomahawks, spears and rifles, rode Wild Bill. Black 
Nell shows her mettle ; up to the chief's side rides the scout, and 



WILD BILL. 559 

into the chief's heart is plunged his knife. But a spear has 
pierced his hip, and he is almost unhorsed; only the timely as- 
sistance of his friend and brother scout, Buffalo Bill, saves him 
from the certain death which stares him in the face. He had 
hoped to secure the chief's scalp, but it is imj^ossible; the jioi- 
soned spear has made so painful and dangerous a wound that he 
must be taken back to Fo<i't Hays in an ambulance. 

Still suffering from the two old wounds that he had received in 
his fight with Conquering Bear and in the Nebraska duel. Bill 
concluded to return to his old home in Illinois for a visit. On 
this scene w^e draw the curtain ; the mother's welcome of the son 
whom she had not seen for fourteen years, who had in that time 
encountered so many dangers — on this, strangers have no right 
to look. His fight at Chicago with a band of seven roughs we 
omit for a different reason ; it presents no points of special inter- 
est beyond the fact that while, before the fight, they were ex- 
tremely curious to know the antecedents of" Leather-breeches," 
when he had gotten hold of a billiard-cue they were perfectly 
satisfied with what they had learned of the man himself; at least, 
they did not ask him any more questions. 

The fact that he received and accepted an invitation to act as 
guide to Vice-President Wilson and his part}^, in their trip to the 
far west, shows conclusivel}^ how wide-spread was his reputation; 
but what were adventures to the ladies and gentlemen of that 
party, were incidents of every-day life to Wild Bill, and it is not 
until his return to Hays City that we find characteristic events 
recorded of him. Here, in this frontier town of nearly two thou- 
sand inhabitants, where there were nearly a hundred gambling 
dens, and the saloons were innumerable, fights, often terminating 
fatally, were of such every-day occurrence that the people de- 
cided that they must have a marshal to regulate affairs. It was 
hardly necessary to determine that it must be a man with a rep- 
utation to fill the position, and Wild Bill's qualifications being 
esteemed the most satisfactory, he w^as elected to the office in 
September, 1869. 

"I kin clean out Hays City, and its marshal, too," boasted one 
Jack Strawhan, whom Wild Bill had once assisted in arresting. 
" I'll git even with that feller yit." 

These threats were duly reported to Bill, and he was not un- 
prepared, when, some six weeks after his election, ho saw Straw- 
han enter the saloon in which he was drinking with a party of 



560 WILD BILL. 

friends. The desperado strolled up towards the bar with as much 
indifference as he could put into his manner, and was within ten 
feet of Bill, when, thinking himself unnoticed, he drew a heavy- 
navy. But Bill's sharp eyes had not lost a single movement, and 
almost before the revolver was cocked, a bullet went crashing 
through his skull to his brain. 

" Come up, boys, let's all take a drink," said the marshal, turn- 
ing coolly to the bar again, and the coroner's jury, that very day, 
returned a verdict of " served him right." 

Akin to this was the case of the bully who wanted to run Hays 
City. One part of the town, dismayed at the spectacle of a half- 
drunken man flourishing two pistols, had consented to be " run," 
but one thoughtful individual went to find the marshal. That of- 
ficial, in defiance of the laws which appear to govern all conser- 
vators of the peace, was easily found, and readily obeyed the 
summons. As Mulvey, the desperado, went yelling through the 
streets, "pointing his ];)istols at all who were not sufiiciently re- 
spectful, he was approached by "Wild Bill, and heard his quiet 
tones saying: 

" Stranger, I shall have to arrest you for disturbing the peace. 
Come with me." 

"Well, now, stranger, supj)ose?/oz< come with wie. I reckon I've 
got the winning hand." 

"That's so," answered Bill, ruefully, as he looked into the 
muzzles of the two pistols, " I can't beat that pair." 

" No, I reckon you can't, and since you are so fresh it wall be 
a good thing for me to hang you up to dr}'. March !" 

" Don't hit him, boys, he's only in fun," said Bill, as if to dep- 
recate an attack on Mulvey from the rear. The desperado turn- 
ed to see the " boys" who were not there, and fell dead as a bul- 
let from Bill's pistol went home to his brain. So detestable had 
Mulvey rendered himself that the citizens would hold no inquest 
over his remains. 'No honor could be too great for the man who 
had rid the town of two such characters as Strawhan and Mulvey, 
and Bill met with thanks on every side for thus securing peace 
to the town. His duties were easy for some months after this 
occurrence. 

The chief trouble came from the soldiers, who were stationed 
about a mile from Hays City, and who did not regard themselves 
as amenable to civil law. Wild Bill had arrested several of the 
worst cases, at different times, and had thus aroused their bitter- 



WILD BILL. 



561 



est enmity. It was in Febimary, 1870, that he said to a big ser- 
geant, who was becoming uproarious, just what he had said to 
the desperado Mulvey. 

"How much do you weigh, Mr. Long-Hair?" asked the sol- 
dier, astonished at his " cheek." 

" A hundred and sixty-five when I'm in a good humor/' re- 
plied Bill, " but my fighting size is something more than a ton ; 
you come along with me." 




WILD bill's fight WITH FIFTEEN SOLDIERS. 

"I won't go with you now," answered the sergeant, " but I'll 
fight you in front of this saloon j and if you whip me, I'll go with 
you; and if I whip you, you'll come with me." 

"Fight, fight, let 'em fight? A fair fight, now-," broke in a 
chorus of a dozen soldiers. There was no getting out of it; in 
spite of his peaceful propensities Wild Bill must yield to the ma- 
jority. All weapons were left in charge of the saloon-keeper, 
and the fistic encounter began. But while the soldiers had been 
so anxious to have the fight begin, when they saw how it went 
on, they were equally anxiousto end it. Fourteen of them came 
to the rescue of their ofiiccr, and it might have fared worse for 
Bill had not the saloon-keeper, seeing the immense odds against 



562 WILD BILL. 

his friend, gathered up Bill's pistols and, at great risk to himself, 
pushed through the crowd with them. One of the soldiers went 
down at the first shot. 

^'Look out!" cried the crowd around them, " he's got a pistol."* 

It was a totally unnecessary warning, for before the words 
were well uttered, two more fell. The remaining soldiers drew 
their pistols, and as Bill retreated, firing as he went, seven balls 
struck him. Smoky River was the bar of safety which he had at 
last placed between himself and his pursuers, and after swim- 
ming this he dragged himself jiainfully onward. 

Secreting himself in a buffalo wallow, he tore up part of his. 
clothes to bandage his wounds. Exposed to the bitter cold, he 
lay here for two days, suffering the most intense agony from his 
fevered wounds ; then, weak from loss of blood and fasting, he 
tore loose the bandages, now frozen stiff, from the ground to 
which they had stuck, and wrapping his feet, from which he had 
been obliged to cut his boots, in his undershirt, with slow and 
painful steps toiled onward to the ranche of a friend. Knocking 
at the door of the cabin, it was with a troubled face that his host 
received him, for but little could be done. Not knowing that he 
had been wounded. Gen. Sheridan had issued an order to bring 
in the marshal, dead or alive; it was supposed that a long chase 
would be necessary, and they had not thought of searching for 
him so near home. For three weeks he lay in the loft of the 
little cabin, tenderly cared for, and entirely unsuspected of being 
in the neighborhood. When he had sufficiently recovered to 
travel, he went in a box-car to Junction City, and remained 
there until he had completely recovered. 

The western climate had proved unhealthful to him, and when 
his wounds were healed. Bill determined to go east. Some occu- 
pation was nccessarjr, and he determined to take to Niagara 
Falls a number of Buffalo, and some Comanche Indians, that the 
visitoi'S there might be entertained, and he be enriched by a buf- 
falo hunt such as, under ordinary circumstances, could be seer 
only on the plains. The work of catching the huge wild animals 
proved more difficult than he had expected, but at last six were 
secured, and four Comanches employed; one of them being the pos- 
sessor of a tame cinnamon bear, and another of a monkey, which 
were added to the menagerie. Trusting that the voluntary con- 
tributions of the crowd would be amply sufficient, he built only 
a slight fence around the ground where the mock hunt was to 



WILD BILL. 568 

take place ; but the expense exceeded the receipts by more than 
a thousand dollars, and after having spent all the money he had 
in preparation, he was obliged to sell out to pay his hotel bill. 

Eeturning to the West, and stoj)ping at Abilene, Kansas, he was 
agreeably surj^rised when they proposed to appoint him marshal, 
for some source of income was necessary; his buffalo venture 
had left him dead broke. Abilene was, if anything, worse than 
Hays City had been when Bill first entered upon the same office 
there. Being the central point from which the cattle raised in the 
Southwest were shipped, the herders were about the worst class 
of visitors that ever afflicted a toM^n. Within two days. Bill had 
signalized his appointment by killing a desperado who was mak- 
ing things extremely lively; and a chance shot from Bill killed 
his own deputy. The companion of the first desperado also pro- 
voked his own death by an endeavor to avenge his friend. Af- 
ter this triple tragedy there was comparative quiet in Abilene for 
several weeks. 

But peace was impossible in such a place, and late in Decem- 
ber, 1870, there was an extensive riot, in which, as usual, Bill 
came oif victor. But so enraged was one man at the bodily in- 
juries that had been inflicted uj)on him that he swore he would 
have Wild Bill's heart. Eeturning to his Texas ranche, he called 
a council of eight men whom he knew were well fitted for his 
purpose, and giving each one fifty dollars to pay expenses to 
Abilene, promised to divide five thousand dollars among them 
when any of their number should have killed Wild Bill and 
brought his heart to the Texan as proof. In high feather they 
started out, but being in possession of so much more money than 
any of them had ever had before, perhaps, they got gloriously 
drunk before they had been two hours in Abilene. With all the 
self-importance of a tipsy rough, one of them boasted that thej' 
had come on important business. 

"What is it?" asked a loafer. 

But the rough only shook his head with drunken gravity. The 
crowd caught up the question, and pressed him hard, until, un- 
able to longer contain himself, he burst out with: 

" We're a'goin' to shoot Wild Bill and take his heart to Texas, 
for his d — d interference with folks he ought ter let alone." 

Bill had no lack of friends in Abilene, one of whom lost no time 
in telling him what the Texan had said. Bill's resolution was 
immediately taken, 
36 



564 WILD BILL. 

'' Go back to the crowd and tell them, quiet like, so's not to 
make 'em suspect anything, that I'm a goin' down ter Topeka by 
the nine o'clock express, to git some new pistols, for mine ain't 
any account; they're worn out, I reckon." 

The information was conveyed to the party, and they took the 
hint. Sobering up as rapidly as possible, they laid their plans. 
Bill was fond of cards, and could be readily induced to pass from 
one car to another in order to join in a game with one of them; 
lurking enemies on the platform; a sudden stab in the darkness; 
a body thrown from the train as it rushed by; eight men leaving 
the car at the next station, and returning through the darkness 
of the winter night to complete their hellish work, unwitnessed 
by mortal eye. But Bill was on his guard. About ten or eleven 
o'clock, he left the car in which he was sitting, and with a pistol 
in each hand, went to that in which he knew he would find his 
would-be assassins. Satisfying himself of their exact position, 
he threw open the door and walked up the aisle toward them. 
Covering the gang with his pistols, he said : 

"Now, you scoundrels, get out of this car, or I'll put a bullet 
in each one of you. Leave the train instantly." 

His tone was so quiet that it would, of itself, have attracted 
no attention from bystanders, but they saw shoot in his eyes, 
and prudently retreated backward to the door of the car. 

"Jump," he commanded, as they hesitated a moment on the 
platform, and the muzzles gleamed ominously in the flickering 
light from the next car. The train was rushing over the level 
prairie at a fearful rate, but certain death awaited them here, 
while that might give each a chanco for life. Into the darkness, 
then, each man leaped as the train sped onward ; one was killed 
outright, three badly hurt by the fall; but if they had not jumped, 
there would have been none that escaped. 

But it is hardly necessary to follow him farther during the re- 
mainder of the time that he was in Abilene, or when he became 
United States marshal of Hays City. His name was so well 
known that in most cases the statement that Wild Bill was com- 
ing, was enough to quiet a row at once. If the quarrel was not 
stopped, he would say, on coming up : 

" See here, boys, this has gone far enough now." 

If an unusually desperate ruffian still manifested a desire for 
more fight, the soft tones would again be heard : 

"If you want any more, nere I am. You can settle with me.'' 



WILD BILL. 565 

But the invitation was seldom accepted. A man who shot so 
quickly" and well as Wild Bill was most thoroughly respected, 
even in that wild western town. 

Joining the Buffalo Bill combination in 1873-4, stage-fright, at 
first, was a serious drawback to success, but in one of his earliest 
performances he made a decided hit. Buffalo Bill, Texas Jack 
and Wild Bill Avere, in one scene, represented as sitting around 
a camj)-fire, telling stories j at the end of each adventure related, 
the bottle was duly passed, but Wild Bill failed to comprehend 
the necessit}^ for "proj^erty" whiskey. Taking a drink, he said, 
with great indignation, in a voice that could be heard all over 
the house: 

"You must think that I am the worst fool east of the Rockies, 
that I can't tell whiskey from cold tea. This don't count, and I 
can't tell a story unless I get real whiskey." 

The building shook with the plaudits of the audience, and when 
Buffalo Bill had procured some "real whiskey," the play went 
on with a first-class story that Wild Bill related. This was only 
one instance of his disregard of stage conventionalities ; another 
was his mischievous practice of firing so close at the " Indians " 
that the poor supes were nearly frightened to death. Eeproved 
by Buffalo Bill for this, he exchanged his stage suit of buckskin 
for his ordinary street dress, and walked out of the theater, 
leaving the stage carpenter to inform the principal actor that 
"the long-haired gentleman that just went out told me to give 
you his respects and tell you to go to thunder with your old 
show." His second apj^earance on the stage was due to an un- 
successful attempt upon a faro bank in New York, but the " Wild 
Bill Combination" was not of long life. 

Returning to the West, he went to Kansas City, thence to 
Cheyenne, where he remained a short time, but soon decided to 
go to mining in the Black Hills, where gold had been recently 
discovered; a treasure soon to be bought with blood from the 
Sioux and Bhickfeet. Encamping with two companions in this 
debatable land, he one day went to the creek, about a hundred 
yards away, for a supply of water. Stooping to dip the water 
from a hole in the ice, he spied, trotting up the creek, a silver 
fox, the skin of which was worth fifty or sixty dollars. This was 
too valuable a chance to be lightly thrown awa}^, and drawing 
his pistol from his belt, he started in jiursuit. But quick as he 
was, the fox, darting from cover to cover, eluded him for many a 



566 WILD BILL. 

■weary mile, and at last escaped him in the darkness. Eetracing 
his steps when he saw there was no hope of success, he heard, as 
he approached the camp, a terrible sound — the war-cry of the 
Sioux. Creeping cautiously nearer, he saw the whole scene by 
the light of the flames that consumed the cabin ; fifteen or twen- 
ty Indians, reveling in the possession of the keg of whiskey 
which formed an important part of the miners' outfit, while the 
belts of two were decorated each with a fresh scalp, reeking 
with blood ; the bodies of his companions were probably con- 
sumed in the cabin. 

Knowing that he would not be safe anywhere in the neighbor- 
hood, he fled with all the speed he could command, not stopping 
for rest until the next morning. Nearly worn out with fatigue, 
he then lay down under a tree and immediately fell asleep. The 
flight was continued when he awoke and had satisfied his hunger 
on a sage-hen which he shot; and he thought he had a fair chance 
of reaching Fort Fetterman, when, on the evening of the second 
day, he discovered that the Indians were on his trail. They rap- 
idly gained on him, and his chances began to look doubtful, as 
he had only one revolver, and two chambers of that had been 
emptied. Four shots, then, remained, and with these he must 
defend himself against a force so far superior in number. As they 
came up within range, he fired one shot after another, and four 
Indians dropped from their ponies; then, retreating to the edge 
of the precipitous bank, with his pistol still raised as if to fire 
again, he leaped down to the creek below. A dizzy whirl through 
the air, and he reached the creek beneath, falling into an air- 
hole, and thus escaping all injury beyond a ducking in the icy 
water of the creek. Keeping well under the ledge of rocks that 
shielded him from view, he continued his journey along the 
course of the stream, while above him the Indians searched for a 
descent to the bed of the creek. All night long the chase con- 
tinued, if such it could be called when the savages expected to 
find only the mangled body of the white man on the ice; and in 
the morning Bill, worn out by his long flight, reposed himself 
behind the trunk of a large cedar. He awoke to find the day far 
advanced, but cloudy and dark. Soon the thunder rolled heavily 
iu the distance, the earliest prophecy of approaching spring; 
and the sound was echoed by another, the roar of the flood that 
came rushing through the canons. 

The danger was imminent. Clinging to the rugged bank, he 



WILD BILL. 567 

clambered slowly up-ward, while each moment seemed an age. 
A sound in a higher key than the rumbling of the thunder and 
the roar of the waters, and for a moment he turned; there were 
the Indians, struggling, rider and horse, in the stream ; the wa- 
ters swept impetuously onward, tossing the dark forms on its 
seething mass of foam, and dashing them against the rocky sides 
of the canon. At last the summit of the precipice was reached, 
and the weary man, no longer flying from enemies, continued his 
journey nntil he reached Fort Fetterman in safety, on the fourth 
day after the attack on the camp. 

Not contented with his experience there, Bill wished to organ- 
ize an expedition to the Black Hills, of sufficient numbers to be 
comparatively safe from the Indians; but was obliged to wait 
until the following spring (1876). Going to Cheyenne in Febru- 
ary of that year, to perfect arrangements, he again met a lady 
whom he had admired for many years, and who became his wife 
early in March. A wedding-tour to Cincinnati followed, and it 
was not until the twelfth of April that the party of about two 
hundred started from Kansas City. 

Having discharged his duties as guide. Bill settled down in 
Deadwood to watch for an opportunity for a profitable strike. 
Deadwood needs no description, admits of none — a mining town, 
peopled by adventurous roughs, built up of drinking saloons and 
gambling dens. Frequent prospecting tours along the gulches 
among the hills alternated with rest in the town, the monotony 
being diversified by many games of poker. Much money, of 
course, thus changed hands, and the last day of July Bill won 
$500 from an adventurer named Jack McCall. The loser admit- 
ted it was a fair game, and seemed as well satisfied as any man 
could be under the adverse circumstances. As Bill was playing 
with some others on the afternoon of the 2d of August, McCall 
carelessly entered the saloon. No one suspected that he had any 
particular purpose in view, until, when he had reached a position 
only about a yard behind Wild Bill, he suddenly drew a pistol, 
and uttered the words : " D n you, take that ! " 

He fired at the head of his victim. The ball crashed through the 
skull, passed through the brain, and came out through the right 
cheek, imbedding itself in the arm of another player. Wild 
Bill's head bent slowly forward, the cards fell from his relaxing 
fingers, and he fell prone on the floor. 

Words cannot describe the excitement which reigned in Dead 



568 



WILD BILL. 



wood. "Wild threats of lynching the murderer were heard on 
every hand, but the more orderly-minded prevailed upon these 
hot-headed avengers to give McCall a fair trial, and the jury ac- 
quitted him. But the court was improvised for the occasion, and 
when the bully visited Yankton a few days later, boasting of his 
deed, he was promptly arrested, brought before the legally es- 
tablished tribunal, found guilty, sentenced, and hanged. 

The murdered man's body was taken in charge by his comrade 
and friend, Colorado Charley, and a grave dug on the mountain 




THE MURDER OF WILD BILL. 



side, where the pine-trees shaded the flower-studded sod. With 
his rifle by his side, he was laid to rest, l^ot forever, for as the 
town grew, the beauty of the woodland grave on the hill-side 
departed, and reverently his friends removed to another resting- 
place all that was mortal of one of the bravest scouts that Amer- 
ica has ever produced. 

"He was a plainsman in every sense of the word," says G-en, 
Custer, who knew him well as a scout; "yet unlike any other of 
his class. . . . Whether on foot or on horseback, he was one of 
the most perfect types of physical manhood I ever saw. . . . His 
manner was entirely free from all bluster or bravado. He never 
spoke of himself unless requested to do so. His influence among 
the frontiersmen was unbounded, his word was law. Wild Bill 



WILD BILL. 



569 



IS aiiytliing but a quarrelsome man, yet no one but himself can 
enumerate the many conflicts in which he has been engaged." 

One notable peculiarity was his sincere regret at the invariable 
termination of such contests; and it was a notorious fact that 
Wild Bill was always chief mourner at the funerals which he 
made necessary, and frequently paid all expenses. In one in- 
stance, at least, he went even farther, contributing to the support 
of Mrs. McCandlas whom her husband left destitute, until her 
death. 



CHAPTER XX. 



BUFFALO BILL. 

IjN" the early part of 1845 there was born in Scott County, Iowa, 
a boy whose name was destined to be known, within thirty 
years, from California to Eussia, — William Frederick Cody, bet- 
ter recognized by his famous and well-earned title of Buffalo Bill. 
But his fertile farm in Iowa seemed to his father, Isaac, less desi- 
rable than a "claim" in the far western gold country, and in 
1849, when the California fever raged so fiercely, he made an un- 
successful effort to reach the distant mines. For three years 
after this he remained with his young family in Iowa, during 
which time little Billy was sent to school to get him out of the 
way, while his leisure time was spent in trapping quails. Thus 
early began his love for hunting. 

But Mr. Cody had not yet given up the idea of moving to 
some new country, although California had so rapidly filled up 
that golden opportunities no longer presented themselves in that 
state. In March, 1852, then, he disposed of his farm, and, with his 
family, set out for Kansas. The journey gave no slight pleasure 
to the seven-year-old boy, to whom the corn-bread and negroes, 
then so plentiful in that part of Missouri, were objects of equal 
interest. When the family stopped near Weston, there to remain 
until Kansas was open to emigrants, and the father, after a short 
absence spent in establishing a trading-post at Salt Creek Valley, 
returned to take his son over to Kansas, the boy's delight knew 
no bounds. Even the statement that two ponies, his own proper- 
ty, there awaited him, could hardly add to his excitement. The 
military parade at Fort Leavenworth, the fleets of prairie 
schooners that dotted the green valleys, even the burial service 
that the encamped Mormons held over one of their number, 
preceded the arrival at the camp. There he found the frontiers- 
men, who, clad and armed in the manner peculiar to the border, 
■were equally wonderful. " They look like pirates," was his child- 
ish opinion. Yonder small group of dark-skinned and curiously 



ferpPAtO BILt. .^71 

attired persons next claimed his attention, and the very fact that 
thej^ were Indians made him doubly anxious to interview them. 

But his ponies were a disappointment, being so wild that they 
would not suffer him to touch them. One was caught, and he 
enjoyed a ride upon it on the second day, but his father's hand 
never left the bridle. They were again at the agency in the 
evening, when there came towards them, from a camp farther 
down the river, a magnificent specimen of western manhood ; 
more than six feet tall, and well built, his long, sinewy limbs and 
broad chest were covered with a beautifully beaded suit of buck- 
skin; a native of the prairies, his step was as light and elastic 
as that of the Swiss mountaineer or the Scotch Highland lassie ; 
his brown face was shaded by a huge sombrero. Looking at the 
boy, who was trying to win the love of one of the ponies by 
petting, he said: 

"Little one, your ponies seem wild yet." 

"Yes, and one of them has never been ridden." 

"Well, I'll ride him for you." 

It was no effort to "witch the world with noble horseman- 
ship," but only a wish to please a child. It might well have been 
the first, for never a knight or king rode such a steed over such 
a course. Rearing, plunging, using every endeavor to unseat 
his rider, the pony at last concluded that it was a hopeless task, 
and quietly submitted to the guidance of a master. 

" O, that's nothing," answered the Californian to Mr. Cody's 
praises; "I was raised on horseback. I ran away from home 
when I was a boy, went to sea, and finally landed in the Sand- 
wich Islands, where I fell in with a circus. I was with it two 
years, and made a mark as a bare-back rider. But I heard of the 
excitement over the discovery of gold in California, and went 
there, but didn't go to mining. I went to work as a bocarro — 
catching and breaking wild horses. Last summer we caught this 
herd that we have brought across the plains, and want to sell 
it in the states. I'm going over to Weston to-morrow to see if 
my uncle is still living there, and when we've sold the horses 
I'll go and see the rest of my folks in Ohio." 

"I am acquainted in Weston, and perhaps can tell you about 
your uncle. What is his name?" 

"Elijah Cody." 

"Elijah Cody? Why, he is my brother." 

Sure enough, the stranger, Horace Billings, was Mr. Cody's 



572 BUFFALO BILL. 

nephew, who had never been heard from during all his long ab- 
sence. Between the ^^oung giant and his little cousin there soon 
sprang up a strong friendship, the bo}^ looking up to the man as 
the greatest of living beings, while the man looked upon the boy 
something as a huge ]^ewfoundland looks at a diminutive black- 
and-tan. Billings was soon afterward employed in catching gov- 
ernment horses, a large herd of which had stampeded from Leav- 
enworth some time before, and now roamed over the prairies. 
During the time that he was thus employed, little Billy was his 
constant companion, and received from him most excellent les- 
sons in the management of a horse and the throwing of a lasso. 
Many a wild chase there was across the prairies, when the ani- 
mals, with every muscle strained to the utmost, with nostrils di- 
lated and ej'cs glaring with terror, dashed madly onward, fol- 
lowed closely by the reckless bocarros. The long lariat whirls 
around and above the head of each man, as he gallops beside the 
animal he has chosen; now he throws it, and the horse, half- 
strangled, and unable by his brute instinct to account for the sud- 
den compression about his neck, sinks struggling to the ground. 
Of such scenes as these was the boy a delighted spectator, al- 
though, of course, he did not possess sufficient strength to be of 
any very material assistance; but there was soon developed an 
intense longing to be like this wonderful cousin. 

Through the next few years we need not follow him; only 
pausing to note that his companions, boys from the neighboring 
friendly Kickapoo tribe, taught him something of their languagd, 
and from them he acquired considerable skill in the use of the 
bow and arrow. Mr. Cody's avowal of his anti-slavery opinions 
was rewarded by a murderous assault, from the effects of which 
he had hardly recovered when his house was surrounded by a 
pro-slavery mob, and he only escaped by disguising himself in 
his wife's clothes; the ruse was not detected in the darkness. 
Nor did a removal render him much safer. Learning of a plot to 
kill her husband, Mrs. Cody sent her eldest son, now nine years 
old, to warn him of his danger; as the boy rode on, he heard, 
from a party of men encamped at the creek crossing, the words : 
"That's the son of the old abolitionist we're after." 
In a moment came the order to halt. But onward dashed the 
plucky little animal at his master's bidding, and those who pur- 
sued him were soon distanced; the boy realized how much de- 
pended upon his escape, and rode without caring to spare even 



BUFFALO BILL. 573 

his beloved pony. For a long time Mr. Cody's life was not safe 
in Kansas, especially in the neighborhood of his own house, and 
it was only by stealth that he could visit his family. 

In the meantime, Billy had been nearlj" heart-broken by the 
theft of his pony. Meeting one day with Mr. Russell, the great 
freighter, Avhom he knew well, he poured all his troubles into 
sympathizing ears. 

" Billy, my boy, cheer up. Come to Leavenworth, and I'll em- 
ploy you. I'll give you twenty -five dollars a month to herd cattle." 

Consoled for the loss of his steed by the brilliancy of his future 
prosjjects, Billy hurried home to inform his mother of this mun- 
ificent offer; but less dazzled by it than her son, she refused to 
let him go. All his pleading was in vain, and he was reduced to 
the alternatives of staying at home, or running away. He chose 
the latter, not returning for two months, when he brought a hun- 
dred silver half-dollars to his mother, who had long before this 
learned of his whereabouts, and consented to let him remain in 
Mr. Eussell's employ. But she was not content that he should 
long continue at this work, and persuaded him to stay at home 
and go to school. For some time, acceding to her wish, he de- 
voted himself to his books, until an unlucky fight with his rival 
for the favor of a small maiden, ended in the infliction of a slight 
cut on the thigh of his antagonist. Believing that he had killed 
him, Billy lost no time in getting away, and soon reached a hav- 
en of safety. 

This was a freight train sent out by his former employers, the 
wagon-master of which, John Willis, was an old acquaintance, 
and now proved himself to be a friend in need. Mrs. Cody had 
heard of Billy's fight, and was in considerable anxiety about him 
when, that night, after the men connected with the train had en- 
camped, he and his friend rode to her house. After much solici- 
tation, she gave her consent to the plan which they had formed, 
although fearful lest her boy should fall into the hands of In- 
dians. The event proved that her boy was quite able to take 
care of himself. In accordance with the proposition that Willis 
had made to him, then, Billy set out to Fort Kearney with the 
train, and spent the summer in herding. The death of his fath- 
er, in the spring of 1857, rendered it desirable for him to con- 
tinue in this work, and in May of that year he was one of the 
hands accompanying a herd of beef cattle to the army of Gen. 
Albert Sidney Johnston, who was then fighting the Mormons. 



574 BUFFALO BitL. 

Reaching a point on the South Platte some thirty-five miles 
from Old Fort Kearney, they encamped for dinner. As a matter 
of habit, three men were posted as guards ; the cook was busily 
getting dinner, and the wagon-masters and others taking a quiet 
noonday nap. Notwithstanding the fact that no one was ever entire- 
ly safe from attack, they thought nothing of Indians, having no 
idea that there were any near them. The guards themselves 
doubtless were cursing the unnecessary precaution which kept 
them from enjoying a nap beside their companions, when they 
heard on every side the war-whoop of the red man, and saw In- 
dians who seemed to have sprung from the earth, or dropped 
from the sky. As the men jumped to their feet and seized their 
guns, they saw the cattle rushing off in every direction; the first 
effort of a war-party being to stampede all the animals belong- 
ing to the camp which they attack. The three guards had been 
killed at the first fire of the savages, who now charged down up- 
on the camp. Received by a well-directed volley from the re- 
volvers and yagers of the teamsters, they drew off, but evidently 
only to re-form for another attack. 

" Make a break for the slough yonder," shouted Frank Mc- 
Carthy, in charge of the herd ; " and then we can use the bank as 
a breastwork." 

Obeying the order, and carrying with them the one man who 
had been wounded, they for sometime successfully defended them- 
selves. But something more than defense was necessary ; they 
must reach the shelter of Fort Kearney again, for the Indians 
largely outnumbered them, and seemed as fresh as ever, while 
the teamsters had no hope of reinforcements. 

" Well, boys, we'll try to make our way back to Fort Kearney 
by wading in the river and keeping the bank for a breastwork." 

Several miles were traversed in the manner indicated by their 
leader; the Indians above them on the high, steep bank watch- 
ing an opportunity to send a raking fire down upon them. A 
raft of poles was constructed for the wounded man, and served 
also, when they came to deep water, to keep their weapons dry 
as they swam. Night came on, and still the relative position of 
the two parties was unchanged. The strength of the boy began 
to fail, and he lagged behind the others, now a few feet, now as 
many yards, now still farther. Patiently he toiled on, summon- 
ing all his powers of endurance. It was ten o'clock. Looking 
up at the bright moonlit sky, he saw, darkly outlined against it, 



BUFFALO BILL. 



575 



the plumed head of a warrior looking over the brow of the bluif. 
Sharp and clear rang out the report of Billy's gun, and with one 
wild cry the Indian leaped up, and then fell forward into the 
water — dead. 

"Who fired that shot?" shouted Frank McCarthy, as he and 
the other men turned back upon hearing the rcpoil 

"I did," answered the boy, 
not a little proud of his first 
effort. 

"Yes, and little Billy has 
killed an Indian stone dead, too 
dead to skin," added one of the 
men, as they came nearer, and 
he caught sight of the dusky 
form lying in the shallow water. 

Above them, on the bank, the 
Indians set up a terrible howl- 
ing, and sent one or two vol- 
lej^s of shot downward, but 
they were fortunately so well 
protected by the bank that no 
harm was done. What would 
the savages have said if they 
had known that the warrior had 
fallen at the hands of a boy 
twelve years old ? The eventcre- 
ated quite a sensation at the time ; Billy, on his arrival at 
Leavenworth, was interviewed by a reporter, and he was soon 
widely known as the youngest Indian killer on the plains. 

Billy was now wedded to a life on the plains, and in the sum- 
mer of the same year was employed as extra hand on a train 
bound for Utah. It was on this trip that he first met Wild Bill, 
whose reputation and prowess made him as great a hero to the 
boy as Kit Carson had been to himself. He had not yet earned 
the title by which he became famous, but his powerful build, his 
ability to " out-run, out-jump, and out-fight any man in the train," 
the true manliness that never allowed his exertions of power to 
become brutality, laid the foundations of the respect and love 
which Buffalo Bill alwa3^s felt for him, during a^friendship that 
lasted for nearly twenty years. But it was not his general char- 
acter which first endeared him to our hero, but a special display 




BILLY KILLS HIS FIRST INUIAX. 



576 BUFFALO BILL. 

of his lovable qualities and his readiness to defend the helpless. 
A surly, overbearing fellow, one of the teamsters, had for some 
time taken particular delight in bullying and tyrannizing over 
Billy, when one day, while they were at dinner, he ordered the 
boy to perform some small service for him. Billy hesitated a 
moment, and the teamster gave him a slap in the face, that sent 
him from the ox-yoke on which he was sitting, sj)rawling on the 
ground. Jumping up with a mad wish to revenge the insult, 
Billy snatched uj) a kettle of boiling coffee and threw it at him. 
Smarting at the boy's retaliation no less than at the scalding 
received, the teamster sprang at the boy with all the ferocity of 
a wild beast, only to be stopped midway in his course, felled by 
a blow from Wild Bill. 

"What's it yer business, anyhow?" he demanded, as he rose 
and drew his sleeve across his face to wipe away the blood j 
^' What did yer hev to put in yer oar for, I'd like ter know ?" 

" It is my business to protect that boy, or anybody else, from 
abuse or kicks," answered Wild Bill, his gray eyes, glittering 
like steel, fixed steadily upon the angry teamster; " and if you 
ever lay a hand on little Billy again, I'll give you such a pound- 
ing as you won't get over for a month of Sundays." 

As in after years, the statement that " whoever wants any more 
of a fight must settle it with me," was enough, and Billy was not 
again molested either by that teamster, or by any who might, 
otherwise, have been so disposed. 

The same point at which, on the previous trip, they had been 
attacked by the Indians, again proved to be the scene of misfor- 
tune, for the Mormons, learning that the supplies in this train 
were destined for Gen. Johnston's army, surprised and attacked 
the teamsters, possessed themselves of such goods as they could 
carry off, and burned the wagons and the bulk of their contents. 
Eeturning to Port Bridger, they spent the long and tedious win- 
ter, suffering greatly from lack of food. Reduced to one-quarter 
rations, they were at last obliged to kill the cattle for beef. 
Buffalo Bill, in his Autobiography, asserts that the animals were 
so poor that they had to prop them up to shoot them down. But 
better times came with the opening of spring, and two trains, 
under the command of the brigade-master, set out by way of 
Fort Leavenwojth for Utah. 

The two trains were about fifteen miles apart when Simpson, 
the brigade-master, directed his assistant wagon-master, Woods, 



BUFFALO BILL. 577 

and youn^ Cody, to ride ahead with him to the forward train. 
They had gone about seven miles, and were on a high, flat sur- 
face of considerable extent, when, half a mile away, they saw a 
body of Indians slowly emerging from a ravine ahead of them. 
Down came the savages in a furious charge upon the little party. 
But a warm reception awaited them. Jumping from his own 
mule, Simpson gave the order to dismount and shoot the animals. 
Jerking the carcasses around the men to form a triangular breast- 
work, he had hardly completed his arrangements for defense 
when the Indians were so near that they were almost within range. 

" Get ready for them with your guns, and when they come 
within fifty yards, aim low, blaze away, and bring down your 
man." 

The order was faithfully obeyed, and three Indians fell at the 
first fire. Only one or two of the savages, luckily, carried rifles, 
most of them being armed only with bow and arrow. Around 
ai^.d around the little fortification they rode, directing a flight of 
arrows every now and then against the men crouching there, and 
firing as fast as it was possible to reload. Withdrawing at last 
to a considerable distance, they appeared to be holding a council. 
This continued for about two hours, while the white men, in fev- 
erish haste, dug up with their knives the eai'th inside the barri- 
cade, throwing it around and over the mules to form abetter de- 
fense. An effort on the part of the Indians to burn them out by 
setting fire to the prairie failed, on account of the shortness of 
the grass ; and, finally giving up the idea of succeeding by an at- 
tack, the redskins began a siege. 

Evidently the Indians knew of the first train, but not of the 
second, in which lay the only hope of the besieged party. The 
siege lasted all night, and far into the next morning. The sun 
indicated about 10 A. M., when they heard in the distance the 
report of the bull-whips, sharp and clear as that of a rifle. In a 
few moments they saw the foremost wagon coming slowly over 
the distant ridge, and soon the whole outfit came in sight. Once 
more, for the last time, the Indians charged upon our little group, 
and, repulsed as gallantly as before, dashed away over the prai- 
ries. No other incident marked their progress over the plains. 

Let us pass lightly over the next few years, spent partly in the 
same work, partly in mining, partly as a pony express rider. 
The latter part of 1859 found him trapping for beaver on the tri- 
butaries of the Eepublican, where a serious accident befell him. 



578 BUFFALO BILL. 

Spying a herd of elk, Billy and his companion started in pursuit 
of them, but while turning a sharp bend in the creek the former 
slipped and broke his leg. One of their yoke of oxen had fallen 
a short time before, and it being impossible for them to cure the 
poorthing's hurts, they had shot it. Billy now begged his friend 
to put him out of his misery in the same way. But Harrington set 
the broken bone as best he could, and making the wounded boy as 
comfortable as possible, set off to the nearest settlement, one hun- 
dred and twenty-five miles away, to get a yoke of cattle with 
which to remove Billy. At least twenty days would be needed 
for the trip, and during this whole time the, helpless boy must 
be left alone. Twelve days passed, each one longer than the pre- 
ceding one had been, and the boy wearily counted the time that 
must go by before any one could come. In the midst of the cal- 
culations which had been repeated so often, he fell asleep. A 
touch on his shoulder awakened him, and he opened his eyes to 
see an Indian warrior standing beside him, his face hideously 
daubed with war-paint. In a mixture of Sioux and broken Eng- 
lish, this grisly visitor asked him what he was doing there, and 
how many companions he had. Hardly knowing if he were 
awake or dreaming, Billy heard the voices as of a large party 
outside, and saw the little dug-out filled with Indians, but had no 
time to reply before the old chief, Rain-in-the-Face, entered. 

To him Billy appealed, and not in vain. His young men were 
on the war-path, but this was a "pappoose," and they consented 
to spare him. Billy had been a frequent visitor to the lodge of 
Eain-in-the-Face, and the old chief pitied his condition; but took 
all the arms in the dug-out to accoutre one of his warriors, who 
had no gun. Helping themselves liberally to the provisions 
which they found, the Indians spent the remainder of the day 
and all night there. The sugar and coffee were all consumed, 
these being luxuries for which the Indians eagerly seek. Taking 
with them such cooking utensils as they fancied, they departed 
next morning, leaving Billy too glad to escape with his life to 
grumble at their helping themselves to his food. 

The next day it began to snow, and for three days the storm 
continued. Thick and fast fell the flakes, blocking the doorway 
and covering the dug-out until it looked like a huge grave. The 
wood was under the snow, and sooner than endure the pain which 
attended the getting it, he lay without fire for some time, eating 
raw frozen meat and snow. Harrington, he felt sure, had been 



BUFFALO BILL. 579 

lost in the snow, and he had nearly given up all hopes of leaving 
the dug-ont alive. The hoarse "whoa, haw!" that he heard on 
the twentieth day was the sweetest music that had ever pleased 
his ears. The two friends greeted each other with all the enthu- 
siasm of two school-girls, each having supposed the other had per- 
ished. They reached the settlements in safety, but it was many 
months before Billy could walk without crutches. Hai^'ington 
had braved many difficulties and hardships to succor his friend, 
and Mrs. Cody could not do enough for him when he fell sick at 
her house in the spring, she nursing him most tenderly until 
his death. 

"While he lay in the dug-out, Billy had vowed that if he escap- 
ed with his life he would leave the plains forever, but as the 
summer came on, and he had completely recovered from the ef- 
fects of his accident, he began to long for the old life. Offering 
himself as a pony express rider, he was greeted with : 

" My boy, you are too young for that work. It takes all of a 
man's strength." 

"I rode two months last year on Bill Trotter's division, and 
filled the bill then, and I think I am better able to ride now." 

" "What ! are you the boy that was riding there, and was called 
the youngest rider on the road ? " 

" I am the same boy." 

"IVe heard of you before. You are a year older now, and I 
reckon you can stand it. I'll give you a trial, anyway, and if 
you weaken you can come back to Horseshoe station and tend 
stock." 

He was assigned to duty on the road between Eed Buttes, on 
the North Platte, to the Three Crossings of the Sweetwater, a 
distance of seventy-six miles. Riding into the latter one day not 
long after his ajDpointment, he found that the rider who was ex- 
pected to carry on the letters that he brought had been killed in a 
drunken row the night before, and there was no one to take his 
place. Without a moment's hesitation, Cody changed horses, 
and undertook the extra ride of eighty-five miles. Arriving at 
the end of the route in good time, he turned and rode back to 
the starting-point, accomplishing a distance of more than three 
hundred miles on the round trip. 

The Indians were becoming very troublesome along the stage 
route, continually lying in wait for the express riders and the 
coaches; and all, especially the lone riders, had to take many 



582 BUFFALO BILL. 

desperate chances. The drivers and passengers of all stages de- 
parting were armed to the teeth, and it was quite an interest- 
ing sight to see the huge affairs load up and start off from a sta- 
tion. It was always realized what perils might beset them 
on the way. About the middle of September the savages gath- 
ered sufficient courage to openly attack a stage. As the heavy 
vehicle lumbered on, five hundred Sioux appeared from the long 
grass, where they had lain concealed, and, yelling like so many 
devils let loose, rushed upon them. Passengers and employes 
were well armed, but the odds were too great; the driver 
and two passengers were killed, one man badly wounded, and 
the stage plundered. Much stock was driven off from the dif- 
ferent stations, and it was finally decided to stop the pony express 
for at least six weeks, and run the stages only occasionally for 
the same length of time. 

It was while nearly all the employes of the road were thus ly- 
ing idle that it was decided to send out a party of volunteers 
against the Indians. Of this company Billy was one, but as the 
incidents and results have already been related in the sketch of 
the captain. Wild Bill, it is unnecessary to repeat the story here. 

Returning to headquarters, Cody, who had made himself quite 
a favorite, was put on as an extra rider as soon as the pony ex- 
press was again running ; having little to do except on extraor- 
dinary occasions. Having much leisure, he devoted considerable 
time to hunting, a sport to which he had been attached ever since, 
at the age of five or six years, he had trapped quails in Iowa. 
Starting out for a bear-hunt one day, he had gone some distance, 
and killed only some sage-hens, which he was about to cook for 
his supper, when he heard the whinny of a horse near by. Know- 
ing of no white men in the neighborhood, and fearing that the 
animal might belong to a roving band of Indians, he determined 
to make a reconnoissance. Ee-saddling his horse and tying him 
securely, so as to prevent his straying with his fellows, he start- 
ed up the stream, gun in hand. On the opposite side of the creek, 
high up on the mountain, he soon saw a light shining through 
the gathering darkness. Approaching cautiousl}^ he found that 
it came from a dug-out on the mountain-side, from which he heard 
voices. At last he could distinguish the language in which they 
spoke — it was English. Knowing that the occupants of the hut 
were white men, and supposing them to be a party of trappers, 
he walked boldly up to the door and knocked for admission ; in 



feUPPALO BILL. 583 

answer to the inquiry from within, "Who's there?" he replied: 

" A friend and a white man." 

"Come in," and a big, ugly-looking fellow opened the door. 
It was too late to back out, though Billy would have readily done 
so when he discovered into whose hands he had fallen. They 
were eight as rough and villainous looking men as he had ever 
seen in the whole course of his adventurous life. Two of them 
he recognized as teamsters discharged some time before, and 
now sought because they had robbed and murdered a ranchman. 
Without showing any signs of recognition, however, he conceal- 
ed his fear and distrust. 

" Where are you going, young man, and who's with you?" 

"I am entirely alone. I left Horseshoe Station this morning 
for a bear-hunt, and not finding any bears, I had determined to 
camp out for the night and wait till morning; and just as I was 
going into camp, a hundred yards down the creek, I heard one 
of your horses whinnying, and then I came up to your camp." 

"Where's your horse?" 

"I left him down the creek." 

"We'd better some of us go down after it." 

" Captain, I'll leave my gun here and go down to get him, and 
then come back and stay all night here," said Billy, thinking 
it would be better to escape without his gun than not at all. 

"No you don't, my fine young fellow," thought the despera- 
does, "we don't know but what you're a spy on us." 

"Jim and I will go down with you after your horse," one of 
them said, "and you can leave your gun here all the same, for 
you won't need it." 

"All right," answered Billy, who could raise no objection. 

" Come along, then." 

As they reached the little camp one of them unhitched the 
horse and said, "I'll lead him. Come on." 

"Very well; I've got a couple of sage-hens here. Wait a min- 
ute till I get them." 

On they went, the man who led the horse in the van, Billy in 
the middle, the other bringing up the rear. 

Although he had left his gun at the dug-out, he fortunately 
had both of his revolvers, and the first plan of escape having 
failed, he quickly hit upon another. 

"I've dropped one of the sage-hens," he said presently, with 
vexation, to the man following him; "do you see it anywhere?" 



584 BrrpALo bill. 

The unsuspecting man stooped to look upon the ground, while 
Billy, quickly drawing one of his revolvers, struck him a blow 
on the head that knocked him senseless. Hearing the blow, the 
man who was leading the horse turned, his hand on his revolver, 
ready in true frontier fashion for the emei'gency, whatever it 
might be. Peering through the darkness, he had not discovered 
what was wrong, when Billy fired, shooting him dead in hif^ 
tracks. No time was to be lost, and jumping on his horse our 
hero rode down the creek at fiill speed. 

The shot was heard at the dug-out, and not very sure of their 





ESCAPING FKOM THE HORSK THIEVES. 



guest's intentions, the outlaws came rushing down to the stream. 
They found the body of their comrade that had been killed, and 
learned from the other, who had by this time recovered con- 
sciousness, what had happened. On they came, then, in hot pur- 
suit, and although unmounted, gained rapidly upon Cody, as 
the ground was so rough that his horse could make but little 
headway. At last they came so close that he saw he must re- 
sort to strategy, and throwing himself from his horse, he gave 
the animal a hard slap with the butt of one of his revolvers, and 
scrambled up the mountain side. The horse started down the 



BUFFALO BILL. 585 

valley, and the pursuers, led on by the sound of his hoofs clatter- 
ing on the hard ground, passed at full speed by the pine-tree be- 
hind which Cody was hidden. Soon he could hear them firing, 
suj^posing that he was still on the horse, and cheered by this evi- 
dence that he had given them the slip, he toiled on toward Horse- 
shoe Station, twenty-five miles away. A party of twenty well- 
armed men started the next morning to "clean out the ranch" of 
horse-thieves, for such were his hosts of the evening before, but 
the birds had flown. A thorough search of the whole neighbor- 
hood gave no other result ; but for some time afterwards they 
were not troubled by horse-thieves. 

When the war broke out in 1861, young Cody became a mem- 
ber of Chandler's company, a body of men enlisted for the pur- 
pose of revenging upon the Missourians the injuries inflicted 
during the Kansas troubles. Missouri had not seceded, nor did 
all of her peojDle sympathize with the South, biit it was a slave 
state, and, they thought, fair game. The services to the Union 
consisted in collecting horses from the well-stocked farms in 
Jackson, Lafayette, and the neighboring counties; the animals 
not being turned over, however, to the authorities. The Missouri- 
ans naturally resented this behavior — there is nothing they hate 
as they do a horse-thief, — and in several running fights chase'd 
the jayhawkers back to Kansas. The United States officials set 
detectives on the track of Chandler and his men, and several 
were arrested ; but not before Mrs. Cody had set the matter in 
its true light before her son, and induced him to abandon an en- 
terprise that was neither right nor honorable. 

But Billy was destined for more legitimate work as a soldier. 
Passing over the remainder of 1861 and the beginning of the next 
year, during which time he was employed in buying horses for 
the government, we find him, in the spring of 1862, accompany- 
ing, as scout and guide, the volunteer regiment which Col. Clark 
led against the Indians. It will be remembered that this was the 
yearthatthe Sioux, enraged b}'- the violation of the treaty made 
seven years before, committed so many robberies and massacred 
so many settlers. The Ninth Kansas performed scouting service 
along the Arkansas, among the Kiowas and Comanches, who 
threatened coalition with the more northern tribe; but though 
there were several skirmishes with the savages, there were none 
of especial interest or importance. Leaving this service late in 
the fall, he joined the Rcd-Legged Scouts, operating in the valley 



586 BUFFALO BILL. 

of the Arkansas and in southwestern Missouri. Much of their 
time was employed in hunting bushwhackers, among whom the 
notorious Younger brothers were prominent, and many were the 
lively skirmishes between them. Employed also in carrying de- 
spatches, the short periods of time spent at the various military 
posts were passed in all the festivity that each place allowed. 

But darker days were coming. His mother died in Novem- 
ber, 1863, and for a long time Billy mourned her with all the 
ardor of his nature. Going to Leavenworth, he tried to drown 
care in drink, and for two months gave fair promise of becom- 
ing as disreputable as any of his new associates. Awaking one 
morning, early in the new year, he found himself a soldier in the 
Seventh Kansas. "When or how he had enlisted he could not tell, 
but knew that he must have been far gone on a spree, and con- 
cluded to make the best of it. In the spring, the regiment was 
ordered to Tennessee, where Cody soon became a non-commis- 
sioned officer, and was put on detached service as a scout. The 
Seventh was ordered back to Missouri and performed good work 
inrepelling Price's last raid. Wild Bill and Billy Cody were 
frequently together during this campaign, after the escape of the 
former from the Confederate lines. 

Service in St. Louis in the winter of 1864-5 resulted in an ac- 

# 

quaintance with a young lady of this city whom he married in 
the spring of the following year. The interval between the close 
of the war and his marriage was spent in stage-driving, but hav- 
ing promised his wife that he would leave the plains, he rented a 
hotel in Salt Creek Valley, and for a few months settled down 
to the business. Many qualities combined to make him a good 
and popular landlord, but six months of it proved enough for 
him. Longing for the old wild life again, and believing that he 
could make more money on the frontier than where he was, he 
started west. Meeting-^at Junction City with his old friend Wild 
Bill, who was scouting for the government, and learning from 
him that more scouts were needed, he had no difficulty in obtain- 
ing employment. It was while he was scouting around Fort 
Hays that he met with Gen. Custer, who had just come out with 
Gen. Hancock's Indian expedition. Custer's favor was soon 
gained, and when Cody had acted as guide for him in one in- 
stance, he said: 

"If you were not engaged as post scout at Fort Hays, I would 
like to have you with me this summer. But if you ever happen 



BUFFALO BILI,. •'^87 

to be out of employment, come to me and I'll find you something 
to do." 

It was shortly after this that an expedition was sent in pursuit 
of some Indians who had made a raid on the K. P. R. E. Five 
or six men had been killed, here and there a workman who was 
at some distance from his fellows, and about a hundred horses 
and mules had been run off. A company of the Tenth Cavalry — 
a negro regiment — was sent against them, Cody being scout and 
guide. A mountain howitzer was sent with the force, and the 
darkeys, confiding in this and in their own courage, boasted 
loudly: 

" Soon 's we kin see dem Injuns, we'll blow dem clar offer de 
farm." 

On the second day out, they suddenly discovered a large body 
of Indians about a mile away, and charged down upon them. 
Hastily placing his howitzer on a small knoll, the commander 
detailed twenty men to guard it, and with his remaining force, 
crossed the little stream to meet the Indians. Hardly had they 
reached the other bank, when they heard a terrific yelling in 
their rear, and looking back to the slight eminence where the 
gun had been left, saw the guard flying towards them on the 
wings of fear, pursued by a hundred red-skins. The captured 
cannon was in the midst of another large party, who danced 
around it as if they wished to invoke the great divinity of gun- 
powder. Turning his command back, the leader soon regained 
possession of the gun, which the savages did not know how to 
use, and the troops, dismounting, and taki^pg position there, 
finally, after two hours' hard fighting, gave up the idea of 
" blowing de Injuns offer de farm." 

"Heah dey come," the darkeys would yell, as the redskins 
charged down upon them. 

" Dere muss be ten tousand of dem." 

" De whole country's alive wid dem." 

" Massa Bill, does you t'ink we's eber gwine to git out ob 
heah?" 

The commander was Avounded, the gun was useless. 

''Do you think there's any show for us to get back to the 
fort, Cody?" asked the officer, when he saw that the Indians 
seemed to be constantly receiving reinforcements. 

" Yes, I think there's a very good show for it," was the cheer- 
ful answer; and through the gathering darkness they made their 



588 



BUFFALO BILL. 




BUFFALO BILL. 589 

escape and arrived in safety at Fort Hays, although several men 
had been killed. 

A business venture soon promised to make our hero a million- 
aire. In company with a railroad contractor he formed a project 
for building a town on the line of the new road. The site was 
duly surveyed and staked off into lots, one of which was present- 
ed to any one who would build on it, the corner lots and other 
desirable situations being reserved for sale at fifty dollars each. 
" Rome was not built in a day," but this modern place of the an- 
cient name grew in a month's time to a town of two hundred 
frame and log houses. One day a strange gentleman dropped 
into the store that Cody and his partner had established, and af- 
ter some conversation on general subjects, said to them : 

"Gentlemen, you've got a very flourishing little town here. 
AVouldn't you like to have a partner in your enterprise ? " 

"No, thank you. We've got too good a thing here to whack 
up wnth anybody." 

"Well, I'm the agent of the Kansas Pacific Railroad, and my 
business is to locate towns for the company along the line." 

" I reckon we've got the only good town site in the neighbor- 
hood, and as a town is already started, we have saved the com- 
pany considerable expense." 

" You know as well as I do that the company expects to make 
money by selling lands and town lots ; and as you are not dispos- 
ed to give us a show, or share with us, I guess I'll have to start 
another town near you. Competition is the life of trade, you 
know." 

" Start your town, if you want to. We've got the bulge on you, 
and can hold it," was the confident answer. 

The very next day Hays City was begun, one mile east of 
Rome. Here the railroad company would locate their round 
houses and machine shops, Hays City was to be the business 
center, and to Hays City went all Rome — literally, for the inhab- 
itants took their houses. Three days after the interview related, 
our speculators stood in front of their own store and watched 
the removal of the last remaining building in Rome to the rival 
town. The agent proved to be "a good fellow," however, and the 
late proprietors of Rome spent many days in buffalo-hunting on 
the surrounding prairie. Knowing their down-heartedness over 
the failure of their speculation, he presented each of them with 
two first-class business lots in Hays City. 



590 BUFFALO BILL. 

Having finally concluded that it was useless to think of reviv- 
ing Eome, the two devoted all their time to fulfilling their rail- 
road contract. 

Being pushed for horses, Cody put his favorite saddle-horse, 
Brigham, to work; but he had about given up the idea of using 
him for this purpose when one of the men called out that there 
were some buff'aloes coming over the hill. 

"I'll go after the herd," our hero answered; "hitch your 
horses to a wagon and come after me, and we'll bring in some 
fresh meat for supper." 

His saddle had been left at the camp, a mile away ; so taking 
the harness from Brigham, and mounting him bareback, he start- 
ed after the game. While he was on the way, he saw five officers 
ride from the fort, evidently bent on the same errand. As they 
came nearer, he perceived that they were strangers, having but 
lately arrived in that part of the country. 

"Hello, my friend," called out one, whose uniform showed he 
ranked as captain, " I see you are after the same game that we 
are." 

"Yes, sir; I saw those buff'aloes coming over the hill, and as 
we were about out of fresh meat I thought I would go and get 
some." 

Brigham had on a blind bridle, and looked like a common 
work-horse. Accomplished buff'alo-hunter as he was, he was not, 
at the best, as stylish or handsome an animal as one would ex- 
pect to see. 

"Do you expect to catch those buff'aloes on such a horse as 
that?" asked the captain. 

" I hope so, by pushing on the reins hard enough," replied 
Cody, meekly. 

"You'll n(?ver catch them in the world, my man," the captain 
assured him; " it requires a fast horse to overtake the animals on 
these prairies." 

" Docs it? " asked Cody, as if very much surprised at the in- 
formation. 

"Yes; but come along with us. We are going to kill them 
more for pleasure than for anything else, and don't want any- 
thing but the tongues and a piece of tenderloin; so you can have 
all that is left." 

"I am much obliged to you, captain, and will follow you." 

As the buffaloes came within about a mile of them, the officers 



BUFFALO BILL. 



591 



dashed ahead. Cody noticed that the herd was making towards 
the creek for water, and knowing that it would be difficult to 
turn them from their direct course, he started towards the creek 
to head them off. On came the buffaloes, rushing jjast him less 
than a hundred yards away, with the officers at thrice that dis- 
tance behind them. Pulling the blind-bridle off Brigham, who 
started at the top of his speed the moment he knew his master 
was ready, Cody rode in ahead of the others, and in a few mo- 
ments was alongside the rear buffalo. Raisir^g his rifle, he fired 
and killed the animal at the first shot, and Brigham, knowing 




BUFFAtO BILL (w. F. CODY). 

perfectly well what he was expected to do, carried him to the 
side of a second. It was but a few moments' work to despatch 
the whole herd of eleven, twelve shots being fired, and jumping 
from his horse, he turned to the party of officers as they rode up, 
and said: 

"Now gentlemen, allow me to present to you all the tongues 
and tenderloins you may wish from these buffaloes." 

"Well, I never saw the like before," gasped the astonished 
captain; "who under the sun are you, anyhow?" 

" My name is Cody." 

Captain Graham, the senior officer of the j^arty, afterward en- 



592 BUFFALO BILL. 

gaged Cody as scout and guide, and often hunted in company 
with him. 

That very night the Indians made a raid on the horses belong- 
ing to the contractors, and ran off five or six of their best work- 
teams. At daylight the next morning Cody mounted Brigham 
and rode over to Fort Hays to j^rocure assistance for the pursuit, 
and Captain Graham was ordered out with his company. This 
was a part of the Tenth Cavalry, and though they had never 
been in an actual fight with the Indians, the soldiers were quite 
as certain of their ability to catch the band they were after as 
had been their brethren who were so badly defeated on a pre- 
vious expedition. 

" We's agwine to sweep de red debils offer de face ob de earf, 
sah," they boasted, as they marched onward, impatient for a 
fight which was to end in victory. Caj^t. Graham was a brave 
man, anxious to make a record for himself, and Cody could not 
follow the trail quickly enough to satisfy his anxiety to overtake 
the redskins. Controlling his impatience at the necessary delay 
as well as he could, he rode onward, and was soon rewarded by 
finding the trail so much fresher that it could be pursued with less 
difficulty. The Indians had evidently thought that they would 
not be pursued beyond a certain point, and had made no effort, 
after passing that, to conceal their route. The camp was discov- 
ered from the brow of a hill a mile or so away from it, and the 
greatest caution now became necessary. The plan was that they 
should advance silently through the timber in the night, approach 
the Indian camp as closely as they could without being discov- 
ered, and then make a sudden dash upon the enemy. Everything 
went well until they Jieared the point where they must leave the 
woods ; when one of the ^'colored gentlemen" became so excited 
that he fired off his gun. 

" Charge !" came the order before the report had fairly died 
away on the still night air. 

Through the crackling timber they rushed as fast as their 
horses could carry them, but the nature of the ground was but ill 
adapted to a cavalry charge, and the Indians were far away on 
the prairies when the soldiers reached the camp. The trail was 
followed a short distance the next day, but there was no chance 
of catching the Indians, and they returned to Port Hays. The 
disobedience of the darkey who had fired the gun was punished 
by compelling him to walk back to the fort. 



BUFFALO BILL. 593 

The terminus of the Kansas Pacific was now in the heart of the 
buffalo country, but the Indians were so troublesome that it was 
difficult to obtain meat for the twelve hundred workmen em- 
ployed. It was necessary to employ a si:)ecial hunter, whose 
knowledge of the country and the Indians would render him as 
safe in this M^ork as it was possible for a solitary white man to be. 
For this dangerous task Cody was employed, and during the time 
that he engaged in it, a period of something less than a year and 
a half, he killed more than four thousand buffaloes. His success 
as a hunter of the huge animals had already made him famous, 
but he had never before devoted himself so steadily to it; so that 
it was reserved for the army of railroad hands to give him that 
title which has clung to him ever since, and by which he is more 
widely known than by his own name — Buffalo Bill. 

During this time he was not unmolested by the Indians. One 
day in the spring of 1868, he had galloped about twenty miles, 
and had reached the top of a small hill overlooking the valley 
of the Smoky Hill Eiver, when he suddenly saw a band of about 
thirty Indians less than half a mile away. Knowing by the way 
they jumped on their horses that they had seen him as soon as 
he came in sight, he wheeled around and started back to the 
railroad. Brigham knew, as well as his master, that it was a 
race for life, and made most excellent time. A few jumps took 
them across a ravine, but looking back when a slight ridge be- 
yond had been gained. Bill saw that his j)ursuers seemed to be 
gaining on him. Three miles farther, and there were eight or 
nine Indians not more than two hundred yards away. Brigham's 
long gallop had evidentl}'' told upon his speed, but he now exert- 
ed himself more than ever. But the Indians were well-mounted, 
and one of them came dangerously near, occasionally sending a 
rifle-ball whistling along. A shot that would disable Brigham 
would be fatal to his rider, and realizing what danger to himself 
lay in the Inditin's slightest success, Bill suddenly stopped, turn- 
ed in his saddle and fired. Down went both the Indian and his 
horse, and not waiting to see if the warrior was dead, he rode on 
at the utmost of poor tired Brigham's speed. The chase was 
continued until they came within three miles of the railroad 
track, where two companies of soldiers had been stationed to pro- 
tect the workmen. One of the outposts saw the Indians pui-su- 
ing Bill across the prairie, and giving the alarm, cavalrymeu 
soon came galloping to the rescue. 



594 



BUFFALO BILL. 



The Indians had no mind to attend such a reception, and soon 
turned, and the running was now in the other direction. Brig- 
ham was soon surrounded by admiring infantrymen and track- 
men, discussing his exploits; and the way he was rubbed down 
and walked around would remind one of the winner of the Derby. 

Some of the Tenth Cavalry now came up, and forty of them, 
with Bill on a fresh horse offered him by Capt. Nolan, put out 
after the retreating redskins. The Indians' horses were badly 
blown by the long gallop after Brigham's stride, and the troop- 
ers' fresh animals steadily gained on them. Soon they were 




"keep off!" — A CENTER SHOT. 

overtaken and one by one eight Indians fell before the rifles of 
the pursuers. Jhis time the colored cavalry certainly did good 
service, and Buffalo Bill had reason to be grateful. 

When he reached the place where his ball had struck the horse 
of the foremost pursuing Indian, he found that the bullet had hit 
the animal exactly in the center of the forehead, causing his in- 
stant death. He was a beautiful animal — too good for a maraud- 
ing redskin to ride on after white scalps. 

If there was anything Buffalo Bill had a weakness for. v was 
in the direction of fine horseflesh. Like all plainsmenj he loved 



BUFFALO BILL. 595 

the animal to whose fleetness he so often had to trust his life. 
When he returned to the camp, he spent some time in petting the 
nohle Brigham, who had borne him so finely that day, and the 
bond of affection between them w^as still further strengthened. 
Buffalo Bill declared that Brigham was the best horse he ever 
saw or owned for buffalo chasing, and he certainly was good 
enough to get away from or get after Indians, as many an occa- 
sion had shown. 

On another occasion Bill had gone hunting, and having killed 
fifteen buffaloes, he and Scotty, the butcher who accompanied 
him to ciit up the meat and load it into a light wagon, had come 
within about eight miles of their destination, when llioy suddenly 
saw a party of about thirty Indians riding out of the head of a 
ravine. Immediate action w^as necessary. The hunter could, 
of course, have escaped by fast riding, but he could not leave his 
companion, for whom there would be no chance of safety. Jump- 
ing to the ground, they unhitched the pair of mules used in the 
wagon, and tied them and the horse to the vehicle. Piling the 
buffalo hams around the wheels in such a way as to form a breast- 
work, and securing their extra box of ammunition and three or 
four more revolvers which they alwaj^s carried, they crept under 
the wagon. On came the Indians, urging their swift and hardy 
ponies to their greatest speed. When they were within a hun- 
dred yards, the two white men opened a sudden and galling fire 
upon them. Changing their course, which had been directly 
down upon the wagon, the Indians rode around and around their 
proposed victims, firing as they rode. Their shots killed the three 
animals, but the two men were unhurt. Three of their number hav- 
ing been killed, and others wounded, they w^ithdrew for a time. 

Knowing that he would be attacke'd by the Indians some time, 
Buffalo Bill had made arrangements to obtain assistance when- 
ever it should be needed. A smoke in the direction of the hunt- 
ing-ground was the signal for the 6fficers at the end of the track 
to send reinforcements. Then, when the Indians gave them a 
little leisure, he set fire to the grass on the windward side of the 
wagon. The fire spread rapidly, and as the dense column of 
smoke arose, tliey knew that help would soon come. The In- 
dians, not understanding this movement, again opened the attack 
upon tliem, but retreated as the cavalry advanced across the 
prairie. Buffalo Bill and Scotty pointed out to the soldiers the 
five "good" Indians that lay on the field of battle. 
38 



596 BUFFALO BILL. 

Shortly after this occurred a unique match, being nothing less 
than buifalo killing for the championship and five hundred dol- 
lars aside. The contestants were Buffalo Bill and Billy Comstock, 
who had an excellent reputation as hunter, scout and guide. 

The hunt was to begin at eight in the morning, and last eight 
hours. Great interest was felt in it, not only on the plains, but 
as far east as the Mississippi, one excursion party of St. Louis- 
ans numbering about a hundred. A referee was to follow each 
man, and keep count of the buffaloes he killed. The first run 
was decidedly in Cody's favor, owing to the method he adopted 
no less than to the superior accomplishments of Brigham. Com- 
stock chased his buffaloes, firing at them as they bounded along; 
so that his game lay scattered over a line nine miles long, Buffalo 
Bill rode towards the head of the herd, killing the leaders, when 
the bewildered followers would circle around the hunter. Not 
only did he kill more buffaloes with less work for his hoi'so, but 
his game lay within a comparatively small circle. The result of 
the first run — thirty-eight to twenty-three — was duly announced, 
and the hunters and their friends refreshed with cliampagne. 

They had not rested long, when they saw another herd com 
ing towards them, and charged into it. It consisted chiefl}^ of 
cows and calves, which are very much quicker in their move- 
ments than the bulls, and was only a small drove, so that the re- 
sult was not large ; changing the score from fifty-six to thirty- 
seven. When a third drove was found, Buffalo Bill concluded 
that as he had now some odds to give his opponent, he would 
ride without saddle or bridle. The killing of thirteen buffaloes 
occupied the remainder of the eight hours, and Cody was de- 
clared victor, the score being sixty -nine to forty-six. 

This reckless slaughter was rather wanton sport. But it was 
certainly more sportsmanlilce than the practice on the early Pa- 
cific Eailroad trains, when, the iron horse sometimes being check- 
ed by the passage across the track of a great herd, the passengers 
amused themselves by shooting the noble animals down from 
the car windows, etc. 

In May, 1868, the railroad was finished to Sheridan, and Buf- 
falo Bill's services were no longer required. As scouts were in 
great demand on account of the Indian war which was then rag- 
ing, he concluded to engage again in that work. No difficulty, 
of course, was experienced in securing an appointment as scout 
and guide, and he was ordered to report to Ft. Larned for duty. 



BUFFALO BILL. 



697 




598 BUFFALO BILL. 

Soon after his appointment, he being special seont to Gen. Ha- 
zen, that officer left Fort Larned with an escort of twenty sol- 
diers, with, of course, Buffalo Bill, for Fort Harker. The party ar- 
rived at Fort Zarah at noon of the same day, where G-en. Hazen 
left his guard, with instructions for them to return the next day; 
and he proceeded alone to his destination. The scout did not 
wish to wait, and telling the sergeant in command of the squad 
what he intended to do, saddled up his mule and started back 
alone. He had gone about half the distance when he was sudden- 
ly "jumped" by about forty Indians, who came dashing up to 
him, extending their hands with the greeting: "How, how!" 
Eecognizing them as some of the very redskins who had lately 
been hanging around Fort Larned, he extended his hand; think- 
ing it best to respond thus to their overtures, although they had 
on their war-paint and were evidently on the war-path. Stretch- 
ing out his hand to one of them, it was grasped tightly, and he 
was pulled violently forward ; at the same moment another seiz- 
ed the bridle of his mule, and in less time than it takes to tell it 
he was completely surrounded, his revolvers jerked from the 
holsters, and he was rendered nearly senseless by a blow on the 
head from a tomahawk. The warrior who had hold of the bridle 
of his mule dashed off towards the Arkansas Eiver, and after 
them came the others, yelling with delight. 

Looking towards the river, Buffalo Bill saw on the ojjposite 
side an immense village moving down the bank, and was more 
than ever convinced that the Indians were on the war-path. It 
was a military council, then, into which his captors ushered him 
a few moments later, and in which he recognized wily old Sa- 
tanta and several others whom he knew. After a talk among 
themselves, which lasted for some time, and which he could not 
understand, Satanta asked him where he had been. A happy 
thought struck him, and he answered : 

" I've been after a herd of whoa-haws." 

"The effect was electrical, for the Indians had been out of 
meat for several weeks, and the large herd of cattle which had 
been promised to them had not yet arrived. Eagerly Satanta 
questioned him as to where the cattle were. 

" A few miles back," was the reply ; " Gen. Hazen sent me to 
tell you that the whoa-haws were coming, and were intended for 
your people." 

" Big chief says whoa-haws for Satanta and his warriors V 



feUFFALO BILL. 



5dd 



" Yes, I've been sent to bring them to you," But the Kiowas 
have treated me badly and the big chief will be very angry. Why 
have your young men abused me so ?" 

"My young men want to have heap fun, and want to see if 
Long-IIair very brave." 

Buftalo Bill knew that this contained no more truth than 
his own statements, but did not let the Indians see that he 
thought so. 

" It's a rough way to treat friends." 




"how, how!" 

Turning to his young men, Satanta bade them restore the arms 
which they had seized, and scolded them for what they had done. 
Having learned from Buffalo Bill that there were soldiers with 
the herd, he thought it was best to get the cattle without fight- 
ing for them. After a short council of the chiefs, he again went 
to the prisoner and asked : 

" You go 'cross the river and bring whoa-haws down to the 
bank, so we get 'em ?" 

"Of course, that is my orders from Gen. Hazen." 

"Long-ITnir mustn't be angry at my young men; they just 
want some fun. You want warriors go with you ?" 



600 BUFFALO BILL. 

" No, it will be better for mo to go alone ; then the soldiers can 
go straight on to Port Larned, and I'll drive the herd down to 
the river-bottom. 

"Wheeling his mule around, he departed for the cattle, which, 
it is needless to say, existed only in his imagination. But the 
Indians were less unsuspicious than he had thought them, for 
when he had reached the farther side of the river, he looked back 
and saw ten or fifteen of them following him. When he turned 
towards Fort Larned, they pursued him at full speed. He was 
still four miles from the post, when he heard the evening gun. 
Little did the soldiers of the garrison think that there was a man 
flying for his life from the Indians, and trying to reach the post. 
The pursuers were gaining on him, two or three being only a 
quarter of a mile behind him when he crossed Pawnee Fork, two 
miles from the fort. Just as he gained the opposite bank of the 
stream, he saw some soldiers not far off, in a goveimment wagon. 
Yelling at the top of his voice, he rode up to them, and told them 
that the Indians were after him. 

''Let's drive the wagon into the trees," suggested Denver Jim, 
" and we'll lay for them." 

Hurriedly driving in among the trees and low bushes, they se- 
creted themselves and waited for the Indians. Before many min- 
utes they came. Two of them were allowed to pass, but two of 
the next group fell at the first fire from the bushes. The others 
discovered that they were riding upon deadly rifles, and wheel- 
ing their ponies, retreated in hot haste, soon joined by the first 
two. Scalping the two Indians that they had killed, securing 
their arms and catching their horses, Buffalo Bill and his com- 
panions made their way to the post. Here he learned that ear- 
lier in the day Satanta and his men had surprised and killed a 
party of woodchoppers and herders, seven or eight men in all. 
The soldiers who had afforded him such timely assistance had 
been sent out for the bodies of these men. The garrison, hearing 
the guns in this last engagement, thought that the chief was about 
to attack the fort with all his forces; all was excitement there, 
and every preparation being made to withstand the attack. Cap- 
tain Parker, who was in command, was endeavoring to get some 
one to take important despatches to Gen. Sheridan at Fort Hays. 
None of the scouts were willing to undertake the trip, as the 
night was so dark and stormy that each distrusted his own ability 
to find the way; besides this, there was the danger of Indians. 



BUFFALO BILL. 601 

Buffalo Bill knew the country better than any of the others, 
but he was tired with his long day's ride. When he saw that no 
one else would go, he offered himself, provided he should be 
furnished with a good horse. He was offered a choice of all the 
horses in the garrison, and set out at ten o'clock for his sixty- 
five miles' ride. The journey was accomplished without injury 
to the scout. Despatches were to be taken to Port Dodge, and 
as no one else would volunteer, Cody started that afternoon. 
Returning from Dodge to Larned, thence to Hays, made a trip 
of three hundred and fifty-five miles in fifty-eight riding hours 
since he started with Gen. Hazen ; a journey mostly in the night, 
over a wild country, where there were no roads to follow and 
where he must be continually on the outlook for Indians. So 
well did Gen, Sheridan appreciate his willingness to undertake 
missions which meant long and dangerous rides, that he appoint- 
ed him chief of scouts and guide for the Indian expedition upon 
which the Fifth Cavalry was soon to be sent. 

As this regiment lay in camp on the South Fork of the Solo- 
mon, Col. Boyal, who was in command, requested Cody to go 
out and kill some buffaloes for the boys. 

"All right, Colonel, send along wagons to bring in the meat." 

"I am not in the habit of sending out my wagons until I know 
there is something to be brought in," replied the colonel, with 
dignity ; " kill your buffaloes first and then I'll send out the wa- 
gons." 

Cody said nothing, went out, killed a half-dozen buffaloes, and 
returning, asked the colonel to send out his wagons for the meat. 
The next afternoon Col. Royal again requested him to go out 
and get some fresh buffalo meat. Nothing was said on either 
side about wagons, and the officer expected to have to send them 
out when the hunter returned. Riding out some distance, Buffalo 
Bill, coming up with a small herd, managed to get seven of them 
headed straight for the camp. Instead of shooting them he ran 
them at full speed right into the camp, and then killed them all 
in rapid succession. Col. Royal came up to him, and angrily de- 
manded an explanation. 

"I can't allow any such business as this, Cody. "What do you 
mean by it ?" 

" I didn't care about asking for wagons this time, colonel, so I 
thought I Avould make the buffaloes furnish their own transpor- 
tation." 




BUrrALO BILL AND HIS HORSE BRTGHAM. 



bUFPALO BILt. 



m 



The colonel had no more to say ; the answer was iinanswei'able. 

Encamping on Saline Kiver, Major Brown had his private am- 
bulance brought out, and invited Cody to 'accompany him to the 
railroad station to meet Licutr Bache, who was expected to fill a 
vacancy in his battalion. Arriving at the station just as the train 
got in, they had no difficulty in finding the lieutenant, and giving 
him the back seat in the ambulance, headed for camp. Major 
Brown was inclined to be mischievous, and had said, as they set 
out : 







M.UvINO LuPiALOKb 1 URMbH THtlR 0^\N TKAN'^PORT V JIO><. 

"Kow, Cody, when we come back, we'll give Bache a lively 
ride and shake him up a little." 

The road was rough, and the night was dark. Taking the 
reins from his driver. Major Brown at once began whipping the 
mules. To further encourage them, he pulled out his revolver 
and fired several shots. Onward they jolted. 

"Is this the way you break in all your lieutenants, major?" 
inquired the new comer, good-humoredly. 

"Oh, no; I don't do this as a regular thing; but it's the way 
we frequently ride in this country." 

Kattling down a steep hill at full speed, just as the}' reached 
the bottom, the front wheels struck a ditch over which the mules 



604 BUFFALO BILL. 

had jumped. The sudden stoppage nearly pitched Major Brown 
and Cody out on the wheels. Lieutenant Bache came flying 
headlong to the front *of the vehicle. 

" Take a hack seat, lieutenant." 

"Major, I have just left that seat." 

The wagon was soon lifted out of the ditch and they drove in- 
to camp in fine style ; hut the account which Lieutenant Bache 
gave of his ride caused it to be remembered for a long time by 
the officers of the Pifth. 

Our scout won the favor of Gen. Carr, who knew the habitual 
exaggerations of the men belonging to this branch of the service, 
and did not, until he had proved him, think much of one who said 
nothing about himself. Finding, July 11, 1869, that they were 
nearing the Indians with whom they had had several unimport- 
ant skirmishes, and whom they had been trailing for some time, 
he and his Pawnee companions advanced cautiously, and at last 
discovered the village encamped in the sandhills south of the 
South Platte, at Summit Springs. Leaving the Pawnees to 
keep watch, Cody returned to the regiment about ten miles in 
the rear, and reported to Gen. Carr. At the scout's suggestion 
the troops were ordered to make a circuit to the north ; so that 
if the Indians had detected their presence, they might attack the 
village on a side where they were not expected. 

Thus avoiding discovery by the Sioux scouts, and confident of 
giving them a complete surprise, Gen. Carr kept the command 
whollyoutof sight, halting to give final orders when within a mile 
of the village. Halting again on the top of the hill overlooking 
the Indian camp, the signal was given to charge, and the cavalry 
dashed down ujion the village. The Sioux had driven up their 
horses and were just getting ready to make a move of the camp 
when they saw the soldiei'S riding down upon them. Many of 
them jumped upon their ponies, and leaving everything else 
behind, advanced to meet the charge ; but, when they saw the force 
with which they would have to cope, rode rapidly away, while 
those not fortunate enough to be mounted, fled for safety to the 
neighboring hills. Through the village rode the soldiers, firing 
right and left, and the scene quickly became one of the wildest 
confusion. 

" Keep a sharp lookout for white women," had been the order 
given by Gen. Carr, who was confident that the Sioux had such 
captives among them. The company which had been ordered to 



BUFFALO BILL. 605 

take possession of the village after its capture soon found the 
dead body of one white woman, the head cloven by a hatchet, 
and near by lay another, wounded. The latter was a Swede, 
and could not talk English, but through a soldier of her OAvn 
nationality they learned that both wounds had been the work of 
a squaw who wished to prevent their telling how cruelly they 
had been treated. 

The booty was extremely rich. Much of the property acquired 
by recent raids upon white settle*?, considerable stores of gold 
and silver, besides eight hundred ponies and mules, fell into their 
hands. A hundred and forty Indians had been killed, a hundred 
and twenty squaws and pappooses were taken prisoners. The two 
hundred lodges, with all the dried buffalo meat and other provi- 
sions, were burned, and the body of the murdered white woman 
buried. But the Sioux had not fled; they had only retreated, 
to advance again upon the attacking party. Having recovered 
from their surprise, they rode back towards the village, and the 
whole prairie was soon covered with the combatants. 

Along the Indian line of battle rode the chief, Tall Bull, 
mounted on a spirited bay horse, encouraging, cheering, urging, 
entreating his men to follow him and fight until they died. 
Cody, on the skirmish line, could hear him telling them that 
they had lost everything, that they were ruined, that the white 
soldiers must be driven back. Treacherous and cunning as he 
was, with, perhaps, an unquenchable thirst for liquor, and not 
hesitating to beg anything whatever from the white man, we can 
not but respect the courage of the man, the de-^otion of the leader 
to the cause of his race, as he urged his warriors onward to vic- 
tor}^ or death. To Buffalo Bill, with the mad fire of battle cours- 
ing in his veins, this was but a Sioux, one of the tribe that could 
not be trusted, and he determined to deprive the Indians of their 
leader. 

Creeping to a ravine the head of which was often passed by 
Tall Bull as he rode to and fro among his men, he waited his 
opportunity. JSTot many minutes had passed before it came, and 
raising his gun, he fired at the mark, scarcely thirty yards away. 
The chief reeled and fell from his saddle, and the frightened 
horse dashed into the ranks of the cavalry. The soldier who se- 
cured him had seen his rider fall, and readily relinquished him 
to the scout. Mounting his jirize, he rode down to where the 
prisoners were, only to be greeted by the pitiful crying of a 



606 



BUFFALO BILL. 



squaw, the wife of Tall Bull, the same who had killed the one 
white woman and wounded the other. 

The animal, which his captor named Tall Bull, after its form- 
er owner, was for four years afterwards the fastest runner in the 
state of Nebraska. A pony obtained at this fight, and named 
Powder Face, became as noted through the stories of JSTed Bunt' 
line as Tall Bull b}' his speed, Cody soon made Tall Bull pay. 
At first no one would bet on the horse; but he proved more 

successful on his native 
prairies than had "Old 
Mountain " some years 
before in St. Louis. 
Powder Face, too, 
proved to be an excel- 
lent racer, jumping 
away so quicklj^ on his 
first trial that he left 
his rider sitting on the 
ground; but he dashed 
ahead and won the race 
without him. Powder 
Face was afterwards 
stolen by the Indians, 
and there was no horse 
fleet enough to over- 
take the thief. 

We now pass over 
nearly two years, spent 
in scouting and hunt- 
ing. He was guide to 
several minor expedi- 
tions against the In- 
dians during this time, 
THE .siiooTixG OF TALL BULL. but thcrc is but little 

interest attaching to the incidents of them. He also accompanied 
several English gentlemen upon buffalo hunts, but however exci- 
ting to the hunters from over the sea the chase may have been, 
it was not a circumstance to the match with Billy Comstock. 

In the springof 1871 we find him appointed justice of the peace, 
at the desire of Gen. Emory, who was much annoyed by the pet- 
ty offences which the civilians about the post committed. Just 




BUFFAliO BILL. 



607 




after he had received his commission, and before he was supplied 
Avith blank forms or statute books, a man came rushing up to his 
house, to get out a writ of replevin, to recover possession of a 
horse which a stranger was taking out of the county. 



608 



BUFFALO BILL. 



"Where's the fellow that's got your horse?" asked Justice 
Cody. 

•' Going up the road, about two miles away," was the answer. 

"All right; I'll get the writ ready in a minute or two." 

Saddling up his horse, and taking his gun, he said to the man : 

" That's the best writ of replevin I know of; come along, and 
we'll get that horse, or know the reason why." 

Overtaking the stranger, who was driving a herd of horses, 
the following dialogue ensued : 

" Hello, sir ! I am an officer, and have an attachment for that 
horse." 

" Well, sir, what are you going to do about it ?" 

" I propose to take you and the horse back to the j^ost." 

" You can take the horse, but I haven't time to go with you." 

" You'll have to take time, or pay the costs here and now." 

" How much are the costs ?" 

"Twenty dollars." 

" Here's your money." 

The stranger went on his way, the complainant went home 
with his horse, and the justice pocketed the costs. After a while 
he learned more about the formalities of law, but he could not 
have complied more faithfully with the spirit in Avhich it is often 
administered. 

Early in the fall of 1871, Cody accompanied on a hunting ex- 
pedition a large party, which numbered, among others, Cen. 
Sheridan, and many noted newspaj)er men and soldiers. Per- 
haps the pleasure enjoyed at this time had something to do with 
the order which, later in the winter, reached the commanding 
officer of the Fifth Cavalry, as his regiment was leaving for Ari- 
zona: "Don't take Cody with you." Certain it is that when 
preparations were being made for a big buifalo hunt for the Rus- 
sian Grand Duke Alexis, in January, 1872, he was selected to 
show the foreign visitor how to kill buffaloes. The friendly 
Sioux chief, Spotted Tail, was induced to come, with a number 
of his warriors, to show how the Indian looked and acted on his 
native plains. 

The Russian prince arrived at the appointed time, Buffalo Bill 
was introduced to him, and after the Indians had given their ex- 
hibition of horsemanship and sham fights, and celebrated a grand 
war-dance, they retired to dream of the buffalo hunt the next 
day. With a commendable desire to lose as little time as possi- 



BUFFALO BILL. 



6uy 



bio, the grand duke had asked many questions of his guide and 
tutor: " How do you shoot buffaloes? What kind of a weapon 
do 3"ou use? Any particular style? Am I going to have a good 
horse?" Cody assured him that he would have Buckskin Joe 
to ride, a steed whose accomplishments in the matter of buffalo 
hunting were equalled only by those of the lato Brigham ; and 
that all he would have to do, after getting into a herd, would bo 
to sit on the horse'^s back and fire away. 

Much was said in the newspapers of the day about this hunt, 
and the grand duke's success. With a truly republican desire to 




SHOWING THE CiRji_NU ULKE HOW TO KILL BUKFALOKS. 

detract from a prince's merit and add to a citizen's, one asserted 
that Buffalo Bill killed Alexis' first buffalo for him ; another, 
equally ill-natured, insisted that Cody held the animal while the 
prince shot it. Having given these two versions, the veracious 
historian proceeds to state the third and more credible, since 
supported by the testimony of Buffalo Bill himself. They had 
not gone far before they saw a buffalo herd, and were soon in the 
midst of it. Preferring at first to use his pistol, Alexis emptied 
the six chambers without producing the slightest effect. Biding 
up to his side, Cody exchanged revolvers with him, and the six 
shots in the second went the way of those in the first. Seeing 



610 BUFFALO BILL. 

that the animals would make their escape without his killing one 
of them, Cody rode up to the prince again, gave him his gun, and 
told him to urge on his horse close to the buffaloes, and he would 
give him the word when to shoot. A blow from his master's 
whip, and Buckskin Joe, in a few jumps, carried his rider within 
ten feet of a huge bull. 

''Now is your time ! " cried the teacher; the pupil fired, and 
down went the buffalo. Stopping his horse, the grand duke 
dropped his gun and waved his hat, the suite came galloping up, 
and soon the champagne corks began to fly in honor of his suc- 
cess in killing the first buffalo in the hunt. A " scratch " shot on 
the way home brought down another, and the hides and heads 
of both animals were carefully preserved. The imperial pupil 
seems to have improved rapidly under the tuition of the famous 
plainsman, for within the two or three days which they spent in 
camp, he killed eight. 

Desiring to see an Indian buffalo-hunt, one was arranged in 
which the Sioux used their more j^rimitive weapons; the long 
iron-tipped lance of tough wood, and the bow and arrow. One 
chief drove an arrow entirely through a buffalo, to the grand 
duke's astonishment. 

Eeturning, Gen. Sheridan called out from the carriage: 

" Cody, get in here and show the duke how you can drive. 
Eeed will exchange places with you and ride your horse." 

Later, as they approached Medicine Creek : 

" Shake 'em up a little, Bill, and give us some old-time stage- 
driving." 

No more was needed. On the horses bounded, faster and fast- 
er, until they came to a steep hill which led down into the valley 
of the Medicine; straight down the hill they went, bounding 
along over the ruts, while both general and prince were kept 
busy holding on to their seats. In fine old style they dashed into 
the camp where they were to obtain a fresh relay, but the grand 
duke begged to be excused from any more of the same kind. 
But although preferring to go a little slower than he had been 
driven, he was not ungrateful for the attention paid him, and 
made Cody several valuable presents. 

We next find our hero in the eastern states, whither he had 
been cordially invited by many of those whom he had accompa- 
nied on hunts. Attending one evening, while in New York, the 
repr'^sentation of '* Buffalo Bill, the King of Border Men/' he 



BUFFALO BILL. 



611 



was called upon the stage by the audience, as soon as his presence 
in the theater was known. Of the speech with which he respond- 
ed no record remains, for no one heard it; such was his embar- 
rassment that he could not utter a word. Judge of his surprise 
when the manager offered him a handsome salary to take the 
part of Buft'alo Bill himself! The oflfer was declined, and only 
the indomitable perseverance of Ned Buntline induced him to go 
upon the stage in the fall of the same year. 




AN AKIioW THROUGH A BUFFALO. 

In the meantime, he had been elected a member of the Neb- 
raska Legislature, chiefly by the efforts of his friends, as he cared 
very little about it and took no pains to secure an election. He 
resigned his seatalmost immediately, and with Texas Jack, went 
to Chicago to meet Buntline. Disgusted by the facts that a per- 
formance was to take place in four nights from that date, that 
the drama was not written, the com2:»any formed, or the *' stars " 
trained, the manager of the theater where they were to play re- 
fused to have anything to do with it; but Buntline rented the 
house, wrote his drama in four hours, set his stars to studying, 
wont out and engaged the minor actors, came back and trained 
his stars, and actually had everything in readiness at the time 
set. The hero forgot his part when he came before the audience, 
39 



612 



BUFFALO BILL. 



but skillfully encouraged by Buntline, supplied its place by orig- 
inal speeches, and brought down the house by describing a hunt 
with a businessman of that city, whom everybody knew. 

Wild Bill joined the company in the season of 1873-4, when 
the original stars were already experienced actors. He urged 
upon his friend that they were making fools of themselves, and 
all the people were laughing at them ; Buffalo Bill replied thai 
he didn't care for that, as long as they came and bought tickets. 

It is but right to 
say here that Wild 
Bill's message 
when he finally left 
the troupe did not 
result in any per- 
manent estrange- 
ment between the 
two plainsmen, and 
although he re- 
mained firm in the 
determination not 
to have anything 
more to do with 
the "old show," 
they were always 
the best of friends. 
■■■<^ x;^^. \^/' y^^^^y^' ' For some years 

^^ ^ w.^- ' now, we find the 

TEXAS JACK (j. B. OMOmJNDRo). j. • j • 

^ ' time passed m 

much the same way ; traveling in the dramatic season from place 
to place, hunting and scouting during the summer. In 1876, we 
learn that the theatrical season closed somewhat earlier than usu- 
al, for the Sioux war had begun, and our hero " snuffed, like a 
charger, the wind of the powder." Proceeding to the west, he 
expected to be in time to join the expedition under Gen. Crook, 
who wished to engage him as scout; but learning that he was too 
late to do this, and that G-en. Carr with the Fifth Cavalry was 
on his way to join Gen. Crook, he accepted the position of guide 
and chief of scouts under his old commander, with his old regi- 
ment. 

Operating on the South Fork of the Cheyenne and at the foot 
of the Black Hills for about two weeks, they had several skir- 




BUFFALO BILL. 613 

mishcs with small bands of roving Indians, who were easily re- 
pulsed; and coming to the conclusion that they had driven all 
the redskins out of that section of the country, the regiment 
started back to Fort Laramie." But they had not gone far, when 
a scout arrived in camp with the terrible tidings of the massacre 
on the Little Big Horn. There was no fear for themselves, yet 
the news spread dismay through the camp, and many a soldier 
voAved to avenge "the flower of our knighthood, the whole ar- 
my's pride;" — and the roughest man of the regiment 

" Had no trouble to muster 
A tear, or perhaps a hundred, 
At the news of the death of Custer." 

The Fifth was ordered to proceed at once to Fort Fetterman, 
and thence join Gen. Crook. But the same evening that the scout 
arrived with the news and the order, came another, with the in- 
formation that eight hundred Cheyennes were on their way to 
join Sitting Bull. Deciding to take the responsibility of delay 
in obeying orders. Gen. Merritt, who was now in command of 
the Fifth, selected five hundred men to intercej^t the Cheyennes. 
Making a forced march back to Warbonnet Creek, they arrived 
there before the Indians. That the enemy had not crossed, was 
ascertained by Cody, who, on his way back to the command, dis- 
covered a large body of Indians coming up from the south. They 
proved to be the Cheyennes, and the cavalrymen immediately 
withdrew out of sight until an attack should be ordered, while 
Gen. Merritt, accomj)anied by Cody and two or three aides, went 
on a reconnoissance to a neighboring hill. 

From the summit of this they saw that the Indians were march- 
ing almost directly towards them, while a body of fifteen or twen- 
ty dashed off to the direction in which the troops had come the 
night before. For a moment our party could not discover the 
reason for this maneuver, but it was readily understood when 
they descried that this detachment was chasing two soldiers, 
Avho must be bringing despatches to Gen. Merritt. Fearing that 
they would succeed in intercepting the messengers, the command- 
er yet did not wish to betray the presence of his troops by send- 
ing soldiers to their rescue. Cody suggested that when the cour- 
iers came closer to the command, and the Indians were about to 
charge, he bo allowed to take the scouts and cut them off from 
the main body of the tribe. 

"All right," said Gen. Merritt; "if you can do that, go ahead.'' 



614 BUFFALO BILL. 

Rushing back to the command, and selecting fifteen men, he re- 
turned to the point of observation. 

" Go in now, Cody," ordered the general, *' and be quick about 
it. They are about to charge on the couriers." 

Dashing down the hill, they charged upon the Indians. The 
running fight lasted but a few moments, the Indians who were 
not killed riding oif towards the main body; then they turned 
upon the pursuers, and a young Indian, decked in all the paint 
and ornaments' of a war-chief, called out to the leader of the 
scouts, in the Cheyenne tongue: 

" I know you, Long-Hair ; if you want to fight, come and fight 
me." 

It was a challenge not to be disregarded. Galloping towards 
each other, they diminished the distance between them to thirty 
yards before a shot was fired ; raising his rifle the scout took aim 
and fired, and the Indian's horse fell to the ground. Almost at 
the same moment his own horse stumbled and fell, but it was on- 
ly a moment's work for each to free himself from his fallen 
steed. They were now not more than twenty paces apart. Rais- 
ing their rifles, both took aim at the same instant; one ball 
whistled past the scout, without harming him ; the other struck 
the Indian in the breast, and he fell. 

Even as he struck the ground, his enemy was upon him, and 
while, as he stood so far in advance of his little command, a body 
of two hundred Indians charged down upon the scout, he stopped 
o\erthe prostrate savage, and having with one stroke of his 
knife severed the scalp-lock from the head, swung the reeking 
trophy and its gorgeous adornments in the air with the words: 

" The first scalp for Custer ! " 

A company of soldiers had been ordered to his rescue, and they 
came not a moment too soon. Seeing that the Indians could not 
be ambushed, Gen. Merritt ordered out the whole regiment. The 
fight did not last long, and the Indians soon began a flying re- 
treat. Pursued for thirty-five miles, they were forced to aban- 
don everything that impeded their flight to the Red Cloud 
agency, while the trooj:)S followed them. Arrived there, Cody 
learned that the Indian he had killed was Yellow Hand, the son 
of a leading chief of the Cheyennes. The old chief offered four 
mules for the adornments of his son, but they were not for sale. 

Accompanying the Big Horn and Yellowstone expedition, after 
the Fifth had joined Gen. Crook, it is too old a story to tell of his 



fetrPFALO BILL. 



616 



gallant services in carrying despatches through a country infest- 
ed by hostile Indians, besides presenting all the difficulties of a 




THE FIRST SCALP FOR CUSTER. 



wild region to the night traveler. Where other scouts dared not 
go, Buffalo Bill was always ready to volunteer. So we leave 
him, remembering that if we omitmention of later incidents, it is 
not because they are unworthy of him ; but it must be remember- 
ed that what would to others be exciting adventures, are to him 
but repetitions, shadows, of the events of his earlier life. 



616 



MODERN INDIAN FIGHTERS AND WARS. 







CHAPTER XXI. 



MODEEX INDIAN FIGHTEES AND WAES. 

IT is our purpose to devote the present and following chapter 
to a brief account of the more famous Indian outbreaks and 
Indian fighters of the last quarter of a century. Much must, of 
course, be omitted in such a short history, and in many cases a 
bare mention must suffice ; but we hope to preserve the main 




THE IDKAL IXBIAN. 



outlines, with hero and there the touches which give interest to 

G17 



6l8 



Modern Indian fighters and wars. 



the whole. The causes of the conflicts which are constantly 
alarming the border, are not hard to discover. The United 
States makes a solemn treaty with a certain tribe, and deliber- 
ately breaks it whenever convenient; then, in the language of 
the frontier, " Indians are Indians" — ''which nobody can deny" 
— not the noble red man of Cooper's novels, pausing from his 
hunt to quaff the pure water that gushes from the rock, but the 
dirty, lying, thieving wretch, who hangs about the frontier sa- 




BUR^^U (jr llC±i7ffA 



THE KEAL ARTICLE. 

loons, until he can beg or steal enough whisky to sink him even 
lower than he is by nature; or who, failing that, becomes the 
follower of some chief whose sole business it is to attack the 
emigrant trains or massacre the women and children of some 
lonely cabin. 

THE SIOUX massacre. 

While the great Civil War wasconvulsing the country, while 
in every home the news of raid and battle was anxiously looked 



THE SIOUX MASSACRE. 619 

for, in a State far from the scene of carnage, which perhaps 
felt the war as little as any other, there occurred one of the most 
terrible and unprovoked Indian massacres on record. The prin- 
cipal Sioux Reservation was then in Minnesota, covering an ex- 
tent of twenty by one hundred and forty miles. A certain year- 
ly sum had been set ajsart by the United States Government to 
provide them with ammunition, food and clothing; but in 1858 
it was decided to apply a considerable portion of this to the 
civilization of the tribe. Every effort was made to induce them 
to go to farming; houses were built and furnished, implements 
and live stock provided, and a system of "rewards of merit" 
instituted. 

But the Sioux imagined that they were ill treated by such a 
use of their annuit}-; and they complained, perhaps with justice, 
of frauds practiced by some of the Indian traders. Certain it 
is, that in August, 1862, there was some danger apprehended; 
and the agent thought best to investigate. He found the new- 
ly-fledged farmers busy, and apparently happy; while Little 
Crow, the Chief, was superintending the building of his new 
house, the gift of the Great Father at Washington. Two days 
afterwards, Sunday, August 17th, the grateful Indian attended 
church, and listened devoutly to the service. Surely there was 
no danger. 

But in the darkness of the summer night, the chief warriors 
of the tribe gathered upon the devout churchman's farm. Al- 
ready had bands of Sioux been seen roaming the country ; near- 
ly the wliole force of " blanket Indians" had robbed the pro- 
vision warehouse at the agency, and others had threatened va- 
rious points; but they had been driven off, and confidence was 
restored by the actions of Little Crow. 

The council probably met only to perfect a plan which had 
long been discussed, as the completeness of the arrangements 
shows. Before midnight it had broken up, runners having been 
sent out to all parts of the reservation. At dawn of August 
18th they were ready for their task ; the work of slaughter be- 
gan. No words can paint the horror of those scenes; the set- 
tler, flying to warn his neighbor, found the cabin reeking with 
blood, and returned to his own dwelling only to bo butchered 
with his family. Some, more fortunate, escaped to the forts, 
after enduring hardships which seem almost incredible, and 
which, in some cases, actually produced insanity; or reached the 



620 



MODERN INDIAN FIGHTERS AND WARS. 



larger towns only to be threatened with starvation by reason of 
the suddenly increased demand for food. Eighteen counties 
were laid desolate, and forty thousand persons massacred, cap- 
tured, or driven 'from their homes, many of them dying on the 
way. 

Men of the North were pressing toward the South, to fight for 
the Union ; and here, it seemed, there were none left to contend 
with the savage foe. A number of volunteers delaj^ed their de- 
parture for the more distant 
battle-fields, and, finally, 
with a force of fifteen hun- 
dred men. General Sibley 
marched against the mur- 
dering Dakotas. But not 
for five months was any fav- 
orable result obtained. A 
number of the Sioux were 
captured, thirty -eight of 
them hanged, but Little 
Crow remained at liberty. 
In July, 1863, a gentleman 
driving along a country 
road heard a rustling in the 
bushes, and, raising his rifle, 
fired. An Indian fell dead 
by the roadside — it was the 
GEN. H. H. SIBLEY. Sioux chicf himsclf. The 

war was ended. 

The tribe was then removed to a new reservation, the ftimous 
Black Hills. We have already seen what a price has been paid 
by the whites to regain this region, then so solemnly ceded to 
the Sioux. 

THE PATE OF COL. FETTERMAN AND HIS MEN, 

Another portion of this tribe had been placed on a reserva- 
tion in the southern part of Montana. In 1866 the Government 
decided to open a road through this territory, and, in order to do 
this, established three posts. Of these. Fort Philip Kearney 
was the first to be built and the most important, being under the 
direct superintendence of Col. Carrington, the officer in charge 
of all. This project was, of course, distasteful to the Sioux, who 




rORT PHIL. KEARNEY MASSACRE. 621 

at once began their assaults upon the troops. Every small body 
sent out was attacked, and yet there were so few men under 
Col. Carrington's command that large details were imj)Ossible. 
On the 21st of December, however, a force of ninety men was 
sent out for wood, to complete the buildings necessary at the 
post. They had not been gone lojig before firing was heard ; 
the Indians were attacking the wagons, Fi'om the fort the sen- 
tinels saw that the train had been corraled, and that the men 
were endeavoring to defend themselves. They would, of course, 
be far outnumbered — even now the Indians came in swarms, and 
who could tell how many were waiting in the valleys bej'ond the 
surrounding hills? Reinforcements must be sent, and Col. Car- 
rington detailed seventy-six men to go to the rescue. Lieut. 
Col. Fetterman claimed the privilege of leading them; Capt. 
Brown, who had been ordered to Laramie, accompanied them, 
having determined to take one more scalp before he left. Both 
of these officers were impetuous and daring, and frequently re- 
quired the restraining influence of their superior. It was, then, 
with special emphasis that Col. Carrington gave the order not 
to pursue beyond Lodge Trail Ridge on any account. A little 
before noon the relief J)^i'ty set out, intending not to make di- 
rectly for the train, but by a little circuit to cut off the retreat 
of the attacking Indians. 

Marching north, the creek was crossed, and the command soon 
out of sight from the fort until they reached the higher ground 
on the banks.' A number of Indians were plainly visible on the 
slopes of Lodge Trail Ridge, just out of rifle-range of Fetter- 
man's party. The wagoners, fighting determinedly, but know- 
ing nothing of the reinforcements, were surprised to find the 
assaults growing less vigorous ; many of the Indians were drawn 
off to attack the relief, trusting to return to the wagons when 
this should have been destroyed. 

Before Fetterman and his men, like the will-o'-the-wisp before 
the benighted traveler, went the handful of Indians. At last the 
savages were just beyond the summit of Lodge Trail Ridge, and 
the soldiers pressed on. There Avere evidently so few savages 
in this party that Col. Fetterman thought himself justified in dis- 
obeying orders; and his ardor in the pursuit was at least equal- 
ed by Capt. Brown's. Entering upon the forbidden ground be- 
yond the ridge, they found the Indians were more numerous 
than they thought, and correspondingly venturesome. Hastily 



622 



MODERN INDIAN FIGHTERS AND WARS. 



forming at the summit of the elevation nearly due north of 
Lodge Trail Ridge, they prepared for defense. 

Now at the fort was heard the rattle of rapid firing, as the 
Sioux charged in hundreds at the little handful of white men, 
there on the hilltop. The case was hopeless, for their ammuni- 
tion began to run low. Still, from beyond the hills new forces 
of the enemy appeared until there were nearly two thousand 
warriors in the field. Few of the Indians used their firearms; 
sure of their prey, they preferred the pleasure of cleaving or 




A DAKOTA CHIEF. 



stabbing ; and sheltered by their ponies, few of them were 
injured. Seeing the hopelessness of their condition, the .whites 
made an effort to retreat. But six or seven of the moun- 
taineers and old soldiers knew how useless would be the effort, 
and manfully stood their ground. They fell, and the savages 
charged upon the main body. It was clear to all the few who 
remained that there was no hope. Col. Fetterman and Capt. 
Brown had both sworn never to betaken alive by Indians. Each 
had now but one load remaining; and as their comrades fell be- 



WILLIAM COMSTOCK's DEATH. 623 

neath that terrible rain of tomahawks, each raised his revolver, 
placed it at the temple of his friend, and fired. They had kept 
their oath, and had escaped torture. 

The last man Avas dead, and the cessation of the shots told the 
terrible tale at the fort. The entire force remaining there number- 
ed but little more than a hundred — barely two hundred when the 
men of the wagon train had made good their escape. A force 
was immediately sent out to find the remains of Fetterman's 
party, in the vain hoj^e that some might ^-et be alive. The story 
was told, like many another, only by the jDosition of the bodies; 
while the powder stains on the temples of the two oflicers show- 
ed what had been the last office of friendship. Only four oth- 
ers had been shot, but whether by themselves or the Indians 
could not be determined. 

Such was the famous massacre at Fort Philip Kearney ; an 
event which, more than any other, marked the year 1866 with 
blood. The succeeding year was comparatively peaceful, sever- 
al months being occupied by councils between U. S. Commis- 
missioners and the chiefs of various tribes. But in 1868 the fire 
blazed forth fiercely. We have already outlined some of the 
operations in that year, the most successful being Gen. Custer's 
campaign against the Cheyennes. It remains only to note the 
fate of one man, known all over the plains as one of the most 
efficient scouts and guides attached to the service. 

WILLIAM COMSTOCk's DEATH. 

In the sketch of Gen. Custer, we have frequently had occa- 
sion to mention William Comstock, to quote his quaintly ex- 
pressed bits of wisdom, and to show what services he rendered 
the command ; and in another place we have seen how narrowly 
ho missed the title of *' Buff"alo Bill," when competing with the 
present acknowledged owner of that title for the belt as cham- 
pion buffalo killer. Wary and experienced, he was invaluable 
as a scout and guide ; and the safety of a regiment may depend 
upon the efficiency pf the one man who acts in this capacity. His 
pride was in his thorough acquaintance with his " trade," as he 
frequcntlj^ called the business of Indian fighting. 

'^ Ef I know anything, it's Injuns," he was wont to say, as he 
expressed an opinion in any case. Officers and men listened 
with deference to what they knew were words of wisdom, and 
no one thought of doubting the assertion quoted j but the event 



624 



MODERN INDIAN FIGHTERS AND WARS. 




WILLIAM COMSTOCK's DEATH. 625 

proved that he did not know the savages well enough to distrust 
them always. 

A band of Cheyennes had encamped not far from Big Spring 
Station, Kansas, where Comstock happened to be at the time. 
Riding out to their village with a single companion, a brother 
scout, they were most hospitably entertained by the chiefs. An 
Indian is always ready to receive a guest, and give him the best 
fare at his command. Comstock and his friend passed the af- 
ternoon very pleasantly, and when the August day was drawing 
to a close made preparations to return. The chiefs, with sincere 
cordiality, pressed them to stay the night j but declining the in- 
vitation, they rode away. They had gone but a short distance 
when they saw that they were followed by ten or twelve young 
warriors of the village they had just left. Even this, suspicious 
as it was, excited no alarm, and the braves rode up alongside the 
scouts and exchanged the usual solemn salutations. 

By some cunning maneuvre, the two white men were separa- 
ted, Comstock being a little behind his companion, and both sur- 
rounded by Indians. Hardly had the warriors achieved this 
success when, in answer to some unobserved signal, each party 
attacked its chosen victim. The whole affair had been carefully 
planned beforehand, and each warrior knew just how to attack. 
At such close quarters, with such odds, the result was almost in- 
evitable; and yet Comstock's companion, trusting to the speed 
of an excellent horse, managed to escape with but a few wounds. 

His good fortune was perhaps due to their greater wish for his 
comrade's life. "When he saw their design, Comstock was at once 
ready ; without a thought of retreat, he tried to defend himself. 
But they were too manj^ Closing around him, regardless of their 
own safety, they managed to disarm him; and although even 
thus he struggled manfully, he was soon dispatched. The reason 
for this murder is a singular commentary on the stories in which 
the noble red man figures as hero. These 5'oung braves had no 
particular desire to avenge the wrongs of their race upon the 
scout whose skill had often caused their defeat; nor did they 
think much of the fame to be gained by outwittingthis wary foe. 
Even with these motives, it would have been in the eyes of white 
men an inexcusable crime; but their purpose made it even 
worse. " The murdered man had for some time carried a beau- 
tiful ivory-handled revolver, and this the young braves had 
coveted, taking this means of getting possession of it. 



626 



MODERN INDIAN FIGHTERS AND WARS. 




THE MODOCS. 627 

But how could this ono weapon benefit the whole party ? asks 
the reader. Easily enough managed : the Indians are ready to 
gamble at all times and under all circumstances; and when the 
triumphant party had secured the prize, together with the scalp, 
clothes and saddle of the scout, they proceeded to determine who 
should be the favored possessor of each article. 




GEN. STURGIS, THE FAMOUS INDIAN FIGHTER. 



THE MODOCS. 

The Indian cannot understand why he cannot retain a reserva- 
tion once ceded, and naturally resents a forced change by a se- 
ries of outrages. Such was the grievance of the Modocs, once a 
nation numbering thousands, but diminished by famine and pes- 
tilence to less than four hundred souls. Removed from their 
home on Lake Klamath, to southern Oregon, Capt. Jack's band 
for some time refused to go. The Klamaths, notoriously quar- 
relsome, had been placed on the same reservation, and trouble 
soon began. After the Indian agents had made many attempts 
to settle the difficulties, the Modocs, who declared that the res- 
ervation was only a Klamath trap for them, departed to the high 
lands known as the lava beds, beyond the California line. 

The Government made several ineffectual efforts to compel 
40 



628 



THE MODOC WAR. 



these Indians to return to their reservation, but they persistent- 
ly rejected all peaceful overtures. Commissioners had been ap- 
pointed when they first left Oregon, but had resigned when they 
found all efforts unavailing ; and in March, 1873, a new commis- 
sion Avas formed, composed of Gen. E. E. S. Canby, Eev. Dr. E. 
Thomas, a leading Methodist divine of California, Messrs. Mea- 
chani, Eosborough and Dyer. Trusting in a system of gentle 
compulsion, with aproper display of the force that could be used 
if necessary, the commissioners held several parleys with the In- 
dians, who were insolent and 
aggressive. At one of these 
interviews Captain Jack and 
his men appeared with fresh 
white scalps at their belts, but 
gradually becoming more shy 
and cautious, refused to come 
into camp at all. 

It was the evening of the 
tenth of April that Bogus 
Charley came into camp with 
several others, all of whom 
were liberally treated, receiv- 
ing presents of clothing and 
provisions. By these Indians 
the commissioners sent a message to the chief, inviting him 
to a talk at a designated spot about half a mile outside of 
the picket lines. Boston Charley came in the next morning, say- 
ing that Captain Jack, with five of his followers, would meet 
them there. Between ten and eleven o'clock the commissioners, 
accompanied by the interpreter and his squaw, and Boston Char- 
ley and Bogus Charley, went out to the spot designated, and 
there met the six Modocs. Sitting down in a sort of a broken 
circle, the commissioners explained what they wished the Mo- 
docs to do, and what would be the advantages of such a course 
of action. Captain Jack answered evasively in an apparently 
serious strain that seems to have blinded the white men. When 
he had finished, he stepped back, and Schonchin began to talk. 
Imagine the scene: a wide valley, nearly level, a kind of con- 
gealed sea, where the black and ragged crested waves were of 
lava ; here and there, in the small hollows a little ash-like soil 
supported a tangled growth of sage-bush -, bounded by dark and 




GEN. E, E. 



I 



THE MODOC WAR. 



629 







630 THE MODOC WAR. 

frowning walls of lava-like rock, more than a thousand feet high; 
here was the little circle, nearly all seated, one only standing by 
his horse ; such was the picture as Schonchin spoke. Suddenly, 
in the j^auses of his speech, Mr. Dyer, who stood by his horse, 
heard a cap snap ; turning quickly around, he saw Captain Jack 
with his pistol jjointed at Gen. Canby. It was the signal for 
the massacre. Aiming again at the same victim, the chief fired, 
and the noble old man fell, whilC Dr. Thomas was killed at al- 
most the same instant. Mr. Dyer turned as soon as he heard the 
cap miss, and was pursued by Hooker Jim ; but the two shots 
of the latter were without effect, and he retreated when the white 
man drew his derringer. Mr. Meacham escaped, as well as the 
interpreter and his squaw. 

The bugle sounded to arms, and the troops hastily advanced. 
On they dashed past the body of Dr. Thomas, and that of their 
beloved and respected commander, eager to avenge his death ; 
but the enemy had escaped into the almost impregnable fastness- 
es that towered above them, and they had to return to the camp 
without accomplishing their desires. 

The Canby massacre was speedily known all over the country, 
and created the most intense excitement and resentment against 
its perpetrators. Gen. Schofield was sent against the Modocs 
and they were attacked in the lava-beds by Gen. Gillem and Col. 
Mason. This engagement took place on the 15th ; and all day 
long both the troops and the Indians fought gallantly and des- 
perately, for revenge or for life. The Modocs, driven to their 
camp at nightfall, were not unwilling to renew the conflict the 
next day. Finally they were cut off from the water, their camp 
was broken up by shelling, and it was only under cover of night 
that they were able to escape. 

At last the Modocs had been driven twenty miles from their 
original stronghold; and although they fought with desperate 
courage, the contest was a hopeless one. Entrenched in one of 
the caves which had probably once been a vent for the liquid mass 
now forming a rocky sea over so great an extent of country, 
Captain Jack, with less than fifty warriors, had held six hundred 
soldiers at bay ; but he was powerless to cope with his OAvn fol- 
lowers, when interest or fear bade them desert to the enemy. 
Half of his warriors had surrendered themselves, and his spirit 
was broken. At last a Modoc, with a white flag, met a scouting 
party with the intelligence that Captain Jack wanted to surren- 



J 



632 



THE MODOC WAR. 



der, and when it was seen that he was well received, the chief 
himself came forward with extended hand. 

It was the middle of the summer afternoon as the party ap- 
proached camp with their prisoner, and all but the necessary- 
guards were enjoying a siesta. But as the soldiers on duty re- 




CAPTAIN JACK. 

cognized the Indian captive who was approaching, and passed the 
information each to the other, the drowsy quiet vanished as if 
by magic. Wild cheers from the troops greeted the murderer of 
their beloved old commander, as he entered the camp and stood 
before them, every inch a chief. Proud, disdainful, indifferent to 
taunt and courtesy alike, he maintained a dogged silence, even 
when ironed; only a subordinate protested against this insult. 



634 GENERAL CROOK;. 

But when it was once decided what should be done with the 
Modocs, and a civil trial preferred to h court-martial, or exter- 
mination without trial, as some extremists urged, Captain 
Jack's silence was broken. Condemned to death, he said that 
he had not wanted to fight the whites, but had been driven to it 
by his warriors; but the law takes cognizance of actions, not of 
wishes, and he, with those of his followers who had participated 
in the massacre, were sentenced and hanged. Probably he would 
have remained silent had any other mode of death been chosen; 
but this, to the Indian, is the most horrible of all. Believing 
that the soul escajjes through the open mouth at the moment of 
death, strangulation, according to his idea, prevents this, and 
the unhappy spirit, condemned to hover around the decaying 
body, is kept forever from the hajipy hunting grounds. 

So we take leave of the Modocs, that once, according to the 
boast of a chief, were as the sands of the sea in number and now 
are a miserable remnant of little more than two hundred souls. 

Comparative peace reigned for a space of about two years. 
Although there was no lack of outrages committed during this 
time, yet they did not result in war with any one tribe. But 
when the discovery of gold in the Black Hills country drew ad- 
venturers thither, the Sioux were ready to fight for the land 
which had been so solemnly ceded to them. The information 
that soldiers were marching against them from both north and 
south only enraged them the more, and it is calculated that the 
^rst half of the year 1876 saw the murder of a hundred miners. 
Certain it is that the latter part of that half-year saw a massacre 
unapproached since the days of Braddock ; but no Washington 
rode unharmed among the showers of bullets, when Custer and 
his command were slaughtered. We have already detailed the 
earlier part of this double expedition, but the battle on the Eose- 
bud is so characteristic of Indian warfare that it deserves fur- 
ther description. 

On the principle that " it takes a thief to catch a thief," many 
of our best Indian fighters make it a rule to employ friendly red- 
skins in every campaign ; especially is this true of the Gray Fox, 
as the savages have dubbed Gen. Crook, naming him from the 
color of his usual apparel and his success in foiling their most 
cunningly laid plans. In this battle, his right wing corsisted of 
these dusky allies and-two companies of infantry, while his left 
was composed entirely of cavalry. Slowly advancing, the whole 



THE MODOC WAR. 



635 




HOOKER JIM. 



SCHONCHTISr. 




n 

BObTON CIIARLET, 



SHACK NASTY JIM. 



MODOCS. 



636 



Dfit: BATTLE ON THE ROSEBUD. 



line was soon in the midst of furious figliting. The cavalry 
charged upon the dusky mass, with about the effect of a descent 
upon so many flies; the army of Indians scattered, resolving 
itself into a number of individual savages, but only to reu- 
nite and prepare to receive, in an equally strong position, anoth- 




GEN. C. H. CROOK. 

er charge. So the cavalry, was led onward, until the two wings 
were completely disunited. The left was recalled to the origi- 
nal position, but it was more difficult to retrace their steps than 
it had been to advance. Charging onward, they had found the 
enemy melt away before them ; retreating, Indians poured from 
every ravine and hill. Contending with the dusky foe on flank 
and rear as well as in front, there was a moment of desperate 
hand-to-hand fighting — sabres and pistols, lances and knives, — 
and they had hewn a path back to the standard of the commander. 



THE BATTLK OF THE ROSEBII). 



687 




688 GKNt:i{Ai, cuooJc. - 

It was an eventful year to the Indian fighters. All through the, 
summer and fall we hear of marches and fights; of the Indians 
pursued so closely and so secretly that on one occasion at least 
the soldiers found the live embers of a fire, a bloody hatchet, and 
parts of a newly killed antelope carcass in a new brush tepee, on 
the line of march. As they advanced to the northward, their 
course became plainer to the Indian, whose only learning is the 
woodcraft which enables him to bafile or pursue his enemies; and 
the horizon, here and there, grew dark with the smoke of signal 
fires. Gen. Crook expected to receive reinforcements of Crow 
Indians early in June, but as they did not join him at the time 
when they were ordered to do so, he sent two companies of in- 
fantry forward to Powder Eiver, a day in advance of the main 
column, to meet them, in order to insure safety from the hostiles. 
But telegraphic communication with the Crow agency had been 
broken, and they had never received his orders. It was then 
without the expected assistance that he must advance into a coun- 
try where every foot of ground could have told a story of some 
inhuman massacre or desperate defense. 

The country through which they were now marching had been 
the scene, in 1866, of a massacre of ninety men, near Fort Phil 
Kearney; in 1867, of a desperate fight of six Montanians near 
by the same spot, an encounter which not one of the white men 
survived ; Crazy Woman's Fork had seen, in 1868, a furious at- 
tack upon a party of twelve men, who heroically defended the 
women and children, and at last drove off the assailants. Three 
times had this been the objective point in a military invasion of 
the Indian country; in 1865, Gen. Connor had, by desperate 
fighting, destroyed a village of hostile Cheyennes and Arapa- 
hoes ; in 1866, Gen. Carrington had left the Indians masters of 
the situation; and early in 1876, Gen. Crook himself had fallen 
back temporarily. 

Many of the chiefs were quite willing to sell the Black Hills 
on any terms that the government might ofi'er ; according to their 
assertions, the truth of which was afterward confirmed by other 
evidence, there were but few Sioux absent from the reservation, 
the bulk of Sitting Bull's forces being Cheyennes, with a sprink- 
ling of other tribes. But Sitting Bull swore that he would fight 
for the Black Hills as long as the question was unsettled, or as 
long as he lived. 

In July, Gen. Merritt was ordered to join Crook, but was de- 



GENERAL CROOK. 639 

layed somewhat by the band of eight hundred Cheyennes, whom 
he drove back to their agency. Doubtless this had a most ex- 
cellent effect upon all the Indians who learned of it, preventing 
them from leaving the reservation. Another reinforcement of 
six companies of the Fifth Infantry was ordered at the same 
time, the commander being Gen. Miles. This officer, who ha<l 
served through the Civil "War, and had then earned himself an 
honorable name, had the reputation of being one of the best In- 
dian fighters on the border. Doubtless the news of this last 
force was doubly welcome to Gren. Crook, who preferred infantry 
to cavalry, since the latter are at home and ready to fight under 
all circumstances; the cavalry, dismounted, being compelled to 
fight under unusual conditions. 

But even before the arrival of these reinforcements, while the 
Indians were three to one, Gen. Crook had no doubt of his ability 
to whij) them. His delay came from his fear that the victory 
would be barren of results if only a small force were engaged, 
while the assistance of the promised troops would enable him to 
end the campaign with one crushing blow. 

The aim of both Terry and Crook had been to effect a junction, 
and on Aug. 8th, the former marched up the Rosebud for that 
purpose. The heat was intense, and the lack of water, so com- 
mon in that region, increased greatly the sufferings of men and 
horses. There was but little grass, for ever since the battle on 
the Little Big Horn the Indians had bee^i burning the vegetation 
which might afford sustenance to the enemy's horses ; and an oc- 
casional oasis in this desert, where the grass, protected by slight 
shade, had been too green to burn, was hailed with joy. As they 
journeyed on, a Sioux squaw brought intelligence of a terrible 
fight between Crook and the Sioux, in which the latter had been 
well-nigh annihilated. Scarcely daring to believe this welcome 
news, they pushed onward, and found, on reaching his camp on 
the 10th, that it was true. The combined force, according to Gen. 
Sheridan's official despatches, amounted to less than two thou- 
sand seven hundred men ; the Indians could muster from eight 
to ten thousand warriors. 

Having retired to Fort Fettcrman to wait for the expected re- 
inforcements, it was about the middle of November when Gen. 
Crook left that point at the head of the largest force that had 
heen sent against the Indians for many years. Eleven companies 
<s>f cavalry, the same number of infantry, four of artillery, and a 



640 



GENERAL CROOK. 




GENERAL CROOK. 641 

body of three hundred and fifty Indians commanded by white of- 
ficers, formed his army. Intending to march against Crazy 
Horse, he learned that that wily Indian chief had so placed his 
camp that a long and roundabout march would be required to 
surprise it, and it was determined to attack the Cheyennes, who 
were somewhere near, in the foot-hills. The Indian allies for 
some time searched for the exact locality, and were at last re- 




THE INDIAN CAMP. 

warded by finding the village without being discovered. Nov. 
23rd, Gen. Mackenzie, with seven hundred picked cavalry and 
the whole body of friendly Indians, marched toward the Cho}*- 
enne camp, halting at striking distance the next day to wait for 
darkness to conceal his farther advance. When night fell, the 
march was resumed, and before daylight he reached a point from 
which the men could distinctly hear the clamor made by the 
voices and tom-toms of the Indians, as they performed the scalp- 



642 GENERAL CROOK. 

dance in honor of a recent successful attack upon a small party 
of Crows. 

The situation of the troops was j^itiable in the extreme. In 
the bottom of a dark and narrow gorge, around them rose the 
rocky sides to a height of a thousand feet; the snow lay piled in 
drifts from two to four feet deep, and the cold was intense, yet 
no fire could be built, and perfect silence must be maintained. 
The horses stood with heads bowed down, tired out with the 
long march; the men shuffled their feet quietly, and now and 
then changed their positions, just moving enough to keep from 
freezing. As the faint gray streaks in the east proclaimed the 
approach of morning, the noises in the Indian camp died gradu- 
ally away; and when all was still, the half- frozen troops climbed 
with stiffened limbs into their saddles, and moved forward to the 
attack. 

Moving silently down the long canon towards the village, 
which lay stretched out for three miles along the banks of the 
frozen stream, the Indian allies rode forward, and with all the 
whoops and yells Avhich characterize their conflicts, fell upon 
one end of the village. Many of the Cheyennes, seizing their 
arms, rushed to cover among the rocks inaccessible to the white 
men; some were killed before they had gained this refuge, while 
others stayed behind to defend their lodges. The cavalry were 
soon in the midst of the fight. Dull Knife, the Cheyenne chief, 
sprang to his arms, and called uj)on his warriors to repulse the 
soldiers. But though the summons was echoed by a rapid and 
galling fire from those savages still in the village, nothing could 
withstand the onset of the heavy cavalry ; and having seen his 
youngest and favorite son fall at his very feet. Dull Knife joine^^ 
his flying band, and in a short time the village, entirely deserted 
by its inhabitants, was in the possession of the troops. 

From their rocky refuge the Cheyennes poured an incessant 
fire. No power from below could dislodge the determined fight- 
ers from their position, and it soon became apparent that the at- 
tacking force was powerless against less than half its numbers. 
Burning the village, and disposing his men so as to secure as 
much protection as possible from the fire of the enemy, Gen 
Mackenzie despatched an Indian to ask Gen. Crook for reinforce- 
ments. Not until ten A. M. the next day did this runner reach 
the main camp, when the infantry was immediatelj^'sent to the 
relief of the cavalry. There was no delay; every man was anx- 



GENERAL MILES. g43 

ious to get where he could help his comrades, and though swear- 
ing like " our army in Flanders " as they floundered on through 
the deep snow-drifts, they only halted for a few hours at three 
A. M., when the guide lost the trail ; proceeding onward at dawn 
and meeting some of Mackenzie's advance guards a little after 
sunrise. 

They found that their coming would afford no assistance, for 
the enemy had been obliged by the cold to leave their lofty posts 
and retreat to a position where they could build fires and pre- 
pare food. The Indians, to whom clothes are an adornment 
rather than a necessity, habitually sleep naked when in camp 
and unsuspicious of danger ; those of the plains, whatever may be 
said of their hardy vigor, are peculiarly susceptible to cold j so 
that the Cheyennes, driven by an enemy with which human nature 
could not contend, collected their herds of ponies during the 
night and retreated. Even then Mackenzie's plans were frustrated, 
for a strong and determined rear-guard drove back the pursuers 
set upon their track as soon as their departure was discovered. 
With no food but the flesh of their ponies, no clothing but the 
green hides of the same faithful animals, they made their way 
with almost incredible difficulty across the bleak snow-clad sum- 
mits of the Big Horn Mountains to the camp of Crazy Horse. 
From their old allies and friends, the Sioux, to whom they had 
never yet refused assistance, from whom they had never yet fail- 
ed to obtain it, the half-frozen and famishing Cheyennes might 
well hope to receive food, shelter and protection. But self-pre- 
servation is the first instinct of our natures, and the Sioux chief 
felt the sujDport of fifteen hundred jDeople too ^reat a tax upon his 
own band; and he received them so coldly, and supplied their 
wants with such a niggardly hand, that they soon left the camp. 
Unable to contend against such difficulties, no alternative was 
left them, and early in 1877 they surrendered themselves. 

Justice soon overtook the Sioux who had denied food and shel 
ter to their suff'ering allies, in the shape of an expedition against 
them headed by Gen. Miles. Setting out Dec. 27th, with a force 
of seven companies of infantry, numbering three hundred fight- 
ing men, they experienced heavy snow, intense cold, and severe 
windstorms. The influence of the latter upon the temperature 
can hardly be estimated by those who know but little of the 
plains ; they cut through and through with the keenest and most 

piercing cold. Slowly they proceeded, their progress retarded 

41 



644 



GENERAL MILES. 



by hardships which cannot be exaggerated, towards the Wolf 
Mountains, sixty miles away. At last they were rewarded by 
finding Indian sign, and pushing on, struck. a large force of In- 
dians on the 7th. Defeating these, they marched onward, en- 
countering a body of a thousand warriors on the 8th. Fully 
armed, and well supplied with ammunition, the redskins were 
confident of victory. The ground was rough and broken, so that 
no cavalry was needed ; indeed, if they had had such a force, it 
would have been difiicult to use. 




GENERAL WESLEY MERRITT. 



Again and again they chai"ged upon the troops, but were as often 
reptiised. For five hours the fight continued, though during the 
greater part of this time a blinding snowstorm almost hid them 
from each other. The Indians at last retreated, fighting as they 
went, and were closely pursued as far as supplies permitted. 
The loss on the part of the troops was small; that of the Indians 
could not be absolutely determined. Many squaws and children 
were taken prisoners, to whom the kindness with which their 
captors treated them seemed very extraordinary. Used to the 



CHIEF JOSEPH AND THE NEZ PERCES. 



645 



inhumanity of their own treatment of captives, it was quite j)uz- 
zling to them. 

The strength of the hostiles was practically broken; the Chey- 
ennes had come in and surrendered themselves. Sitting Bull, 
with his conglomerate force, had betaken himself into Canada, 
and Crazy Horse and his band of Sioux had been defeated by 
this last fight with Gen. Miles. A band of the Nez Perces Indians 
are the dusky heroes of the next campaign, which was conducted 

by Gen. Howard. The so-called 
Chief Joseph, of the Nez Perces, 
was really a scalawag with some 
followers, the main body of the 
tribe keeping firmly to the treaty 
made with the United States 
in 1855. 

Leaving their reservation in 
the summer of 1877, these non- 
treaty Indians, as they were 
called, refused to return, and it 
was necessary to employ force. 
Gen. Gibbon accordingly march- 
ed against them, and a severe en- 
gagement ensued when the two 
forces met, Aug. 9th, which resulted in a heavy loss to the troops. 
Encouraged by this success. Chief Joseph and his band started 
eastward to the buffalo country, but were met by Gen. Sturgis, 
with the Seventh Cavalry. All day long t|jey fought, and the 
Indians, badly cut up, retreated, followed by Gen. Sturgis, who 
had now been reinforced by Gen. Howard. The last day of 
September Gen. Miles made a sudden attack upon the enemy, 
whose camp w^as on the level ground of the river bottom. The 
Indians fled to the crests of the surrounding hills, and thence re- 
pulsed the charges of the Seventh Cavalry. A roAv of dead hor- 
ses marked the line of attack, and nearly all the officers were 
killed or disabled. Finally the Indians took to the pits and ra- 
vines, whence it was almost impossible to dislodge them. 

The arrival of Gen. Howard, Oct. 4th, was followed, the next 
day, by the surrender of Joseph and his band. 

"I am tired of fighting," said he; "our chiefs are killed; the 
old men are all dead; it is the j'oung men who say yes or no. 
He who led on the young men is dead. It is cold^ and we have 




O. HOWARD. 



646 



THE UTES. 



no blankets ; the little children are freezing to death. I am tired ; 
my heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands I will 
fight no more forever." 

The outbreaks of the succeeding years are mainly due to the bad 
faith of the Indian agents. The Utes, particularly, had alwaj^s 
been notably peaceable, submitting to many indignities rather 
than go to war with the whites. The inveterate enemies of the 
Sioux, it was their earnest desire to "travel the white man's 
road," as the Indian expresses it. In July they set fire to the 




CAPT. D. L. PAYKE, 



timber near their reservation in order to concentrate game. This 
resulted in the destruction of considerable property, and the 
guilty ones were ordered to be arrested. Provoked by many 
previous indignities, they were not disposed to submit to this 
reasonable requirement, and it became necessary to send for 
troops. 

Major Thornburgh was accordingly despatched with one hun- 
dred and sixty men, and followed the enemy into the sandhills. 
Here the Utes, brought to bay, ambuscaded, but the ruse was 
fortunately discovered by the troops, and they were obliged to 
change their tactics. Dashing down upon the main force, they 



(THE UTiiS. 



647 




W^(t.^ 



648 WAR cL0trt)g. 

reached the end of the train, and a moment held their own, but 
were more than once repulsed. The gallant commanding officer 
led a counter charge against them, but fell at the head of his men. 
Securing his bodj^, they retreated and intrenched themselves be- 
hind the wagons and dead horses. Again and again the Indians 
charged upon them, only ceasing at night, and recommenced early 
the next morning. The death of Major Thornburgh left Capt. 
Payne in command, and encouraged by him the troops held out 
bravely, until the sixth day came. Worn out by the constant 
vigilance required as well as by the intense anxiety with which 
their situation most naturally filled them, with what delight they 
must have seen yonder dark spot on the horizon grow into aline, 
the line into a moving mass, the indistinct outlines of which grad- 
ually brighten into the semblance of a company of soldiers ! Por 
once, if never before or since, they felt the distinctions of race 
even more completely blotted out than the advocates of the Fif- 
teenth Amendment and the Civil Rights Bill could hope, and 
they did not scruple to accept the assistance of these black sol- 
diers. " The colored troops fought nobl}'," and when Gen. Mer- 
ritt arrived v^ith the Fifth Cavalry, there was but little more to be 
done. The Utes,however,did not return to their reservation un- 
til the burning of their agency, and the murder of many white 
men had enraged the surrounding country. 

Trouble with the Poncas was anticipated, when, early in 1881, 
they were removed from their reservation, which was ceded to 
the Sioux, who would not accept the gift. But before the In- 
dians could take decisive action, the presence of Gens. Crook 
and Miles, who had been sent with two columns to visit and re- 
port upon the state of affairs, frightened them into submission. 



CHAPTER XXIL 



APACHE OUTBEEAKS. 

EXCEPTING the Sioux, the Apaches are perhaps the most 
formidable of our Indian tribes. The various bands had 
been committing depredations along theMexicun border for many 
3-oars, seemingly unchecked by the authority of eitlier country. 
Indeed, such are the natural strongholds in which they take refuge 
that they are safe from all pursuit. Bowlders and scrub timber 
shelter them, when the troops would climb the steep sides of the 
canons, and enable them to pour forth a deadly fire with entire 
safety to themselves. 

Such was the state of affairs when, in the beginning of Septem- 
ber, 1882, Gen. Crook was ordered to Arizona, to deal with these 
unconquerable foes. Wary and cunning, he had won the reputa- 
tion of being the best Indian fighter on the border; certainly 
his constant use of Indian allies enabled him to trace the enemy 
under circumstances where white men alone would have no 
chance. The fall and winter were devoted to the work of 
pacification, in the hope that war might be averted. But a so- 
called tribe consists of numberless bands, any one of which may 
go to war while the others faithfully keep the peace. Even while 
Crook was persuading the Apaches that they had better stay on 
their reservation, the Chiricahuas, the most bloodthirsty band 
of the tribe, had crossed the boundary, and were pillaging and 
murdering in Mexico. Early in the spring, they recrossed the 
line, bent on the same errand in the United States, and again 
the border was devastated by the pitiless savage; the hardy 
pioneer was called on to defend himself and family from fierce 
attacks by night and by day, and massacre and rapine formed 
the burden of news from that region. Among their earliest vic- 
tims were Judge McComas and his wife, who had gone from St. 
Louis to look after some mining interests; their six-year-old 
son Charlie being carried into captivity. 

649 



650 



APACHE OUTBREAKS* 




APACHE OUTBREAKS. B51 

This occurred within twenty-five miles of Gen. Crook's head- 
quarters, but so little did the savages fear pursuit that they mur- 
dered twenty other persons before they took refuge in the fast- 
nesses of the Sierra Madre. 

May 1st, 1883, Gen. Crook left San Bernardino Springs with 
a force made up of one hundred and ninety-three friendly 
Apaches, and one company of cavalry, consisting of forty -two 
enlisted men. The Indians were commanded by white officers, 
and were relied upon as the most serviceable part of the com- 
mand in catching the slippery foe in that inaccessible country. 

Moving southeast through a region desolated by the savage 
marauders, for three days they saw no human beings but each 
other. Through the jungles of cane and mesquite that covered 
the once cultivated land they followed the trail of the hostiles, 
the guide " Peaches" leading them on. Crossing the line, they 
were received with exuberant joy by the Mexicans, who lived in 
constant fear of the Apaches. The authorities offered every as- 
sistance, even to guides; but the latter proffer was declined. As 
they advanced, the trail became fresher, and there were abun- 
(hmt proofs that the Chiricahuas were not far off. The scouts, a 
ilay's journey in advance of the cavalry, at last discovered acamp. 
If not surprised, the hostiles could never be dislodged from their 
natural fortress, and Crook gave orders for surrounding the camp. 

The surprise was complete, and for hours the fight raged hot- 
ly. But the nature of the country favored the Chiricahuas. De- 
spairing of victory, they left the camp and its contents to the 
enemy, and sought shelter in the surrounding ravines. Five half 
grown girls and boys were taken prisoners, and the bodies of 
nine warriors were afterward found ; but a further search could 
not be made without great danger. 

The camp had been captured, and the Apache loss was probably 
severe; but the risk of running into an ambush was so great 
that pursuit was not advisable. Besides, the whole band had 
been alarmed by the destruction of this camp, and the troops 
must wait to execute a second surprise, after the Indians had 
quieted down, or else accept their surrender. 

The fight took place May 16th. The succeeding day the Chiri- 
cahuas tried to treat through squaws, but Crook demanded 
chiefs to act as representatives. In obedience to this, a Chirica- 
hua, a leading man of the tribe, though not a chief, came in on 
the 18th, and gave much information as to the movements of his 



652 



APACHE OUTBREAKS. 



people. One piece of news was received with satisfaction : a lit- 
tle white boy, captured in New Mexico, had been in Chato's 
camp — the one attacked — and that the squaws had carried him 
off when they broke away at the first sign of an attack. 

The chiefs came in, one after another, and professed their 
readiness to surrender; but Gen. Crook would make no promises 
of pardon for such offenders. Hieronymo, Chato, Benito, Loco, 




TRKATUJ^Q FOR PEACE WITH GENERAL CROOK. 



Natchez, Kan Tin No, all begged for an assurance of safety ; 
but Crook told them that he could not allow them even a few 
days to gather up their followers; that they must take the 
chances of a fight with the exasperated Mexicans or Americans 
if they could not catch up with the troops. Indeed, he could not 
wait for them, as his supplies were not sufficient for troops and 
prisoners. 

Three hundred and eighty-four Chiricahuas had been taken, 
mostly squaws and very old men; and six Mexican women had 



APACHE OUTBREAKS. 



653 




664 



APACHE OUTBREAKS. 



been recaptured. With these prisoners G-en. Crook set out Oft 
the return march, leaving the warriors to follow at their own 
time. His later experience is a curious instance of the fickle- 
ness of popular opinion. Eeceived with rejoicings, he was ban- 
queted and lionized by the citizens; but when they saw his 
prisoners, and knew that no warriors had yet come in, that 




CHARLIE MCCOMAS. 



Charlie McComas, whom he had promised to bring back with 
him, was still in the hands of the enemy, he was denounced as 
an unmitigated fraud. The press caught up the cry, and his 
campaign was called a failure. Gen. Crook, however, was sen- 
sible enough to bide his time without indulging in any effort to 
vindicate himself; and the falsity of the charge of failure was 
shown when the first band came in and surrendered. Not until 



APACHE OUTBREAKS. 655 

the end of the next winter was the victory complete, for then 
the last band of hostile Apaches gave themselves up. 

One more touch to the sketch, and we arc done. Gen. Crook 
had ordered them to bring in the captive child, but as month 
after month passed by and still they did not obey, even he began 
to distrust them. The following dispatch explains why they did 
not come : 

Presidio, San Francisco, Cal., March 23, 1884. 
To the Adjutant- General of the United States Army, at Washington. 

The following dispatch of this date has just been received from Gen. Crook: 
A most careful examination has been made, and the testimony of the Indians is that 
Charlie McComas was never seen alive after the night in the Sierra Madre. The 
Indians scattered in every direction at the moment of the attack. The country 
there is indescribably rough, the sides of the canons being covered with bowlders 
and scrub timber which efiectually conceals one taking refuge in them. I am satis- 
fied that the Apaches hunted for him, as they promised to do, but it was so very 
cold, and the rain fell that night, washing away his footprints, so that he could not 
be trailed. There is now every reason to believe that he perished from cold and ex- 
posure. John Pope, Major-General. 

GERONIMO. 

Women and whisky are said to be the two causes of more quar- 
rels than are excited by anything else. In the larger contests 
called wars, love of power and other ambitions take the place of 
these primitive incitements ; but the Indian of the present day 
has no such desires ; he is an animal to whom the privilege and 
the means of getting drunk are the supreme good; and in what- 
ever contempt he may hold the fair sex in general, he is as easily 
swayed by a keen-witted woman as are any of his white brethren. 

The true cause of the Apache outbreak in the spring of 1885 is 
not easily determined. Various reasons have been assigned for 
Geronimo and his braves taking the war-path. Perhaps the fol- 
lowing is the most probable combination of the two reasons 
which have been most confidently and authoritatively assigned, 
by those who were in the best position to know. 

Among the arts which the Indian of New Mexico and Arizona 
possesses is that of making a beverage called tiswin, compared 
with which fusil oil and Jersey lightning are as mild and harm- 
less as new milk. But these Chiricahuas are not squeamish as 
regards the flavor of their liquors; strength is all that is re- 
quired. Rendered desperate by long enforced temperance, the 
Indians of this tribe, which is a sub-division of the great nation of 
the Apaches, concocted a quantity of tiswin, and the braves got up- 



.n^^^^^ 




GERONIMO, WAR CHIEr OF THE APACHES, 



GERONIMO. 657 

on a glorious drunk. So much is certain, for it appears upon the 
records of the War Department. With returning sobriety came 
repentance, and a wholesome fear of Gen. Crook, by whose vigi- 
lant care of his Indian charges such sprees were strictly forbid- 
den and surely punished. Lieut. Davis, in command of the post, 
was interviewed regarding their offense and the probability of 
punishment. 

"I must report the matter to Gen. Crook," replied the officer; 
" I cannot say what steps he will see fit to take in the matter." 

The braves withdrew anxious and fearfulj bat concealing their 
real feelings beneath a sullen gravity. At this point in the nar- 
rative comes in the other disturbing element. The envoys re- 
ported the ominous reply of the lieutenant to the others of the 
tribe ; and the matter was discussed at length. Huera, the wife 
of Mangus, a principal chief of the tribe, possessed an influence 
over the braves seldom equalled by Indian women. To her fierce 
utterances they listened not unwillingly. It was not long before 
she had convinced them that to stay and await punishment was 
a course unworthy of warriors ; and the next daysawthem upon 
the war-path. Their chosen chief was Geronimo, a half-breed 
Mexican, who had, while yet a boy, been captured by the 
Apaches. A willing pupil of the famous Cochise, he had learned 
every detail of Indian generalship; and had succeeded him in 
the highest office in the gift of the tribe. They had escaped pun- 
ishment, for a time at least; for it is an axiom of Indian warfare, 
the truth of which is at once apparent, that you cannot do any- 
thing with an Indian until you have caught him. 

This interview, which ended so disastrously for the white set- 
tlers in New Mexico and Arizona, and ultimately for the Chiri- 
cahuas themselves, took place about the middle of April, 1885. 
It was the 15th of that month when the flight of the Indians from 
the reservation was discovered. The troops were at once pre- 
pared for pursuit, and the long chase began. Their earliest field 
of operations was in that portion of New Mexico bounded by the 
Atlantic and Pacific R. R. on the north, the Ladron and Mag- 
dalena mountains on the east, the Gila river on the south, and 
the boundary lino of Arizona on the west. "Geronimo knew this 
country as well as if he had made it himself," was the quaint re- 
mark of a newspaper correspondent; and if it had been made 
to order it could not have suited him better. From mountain 
fastnesses inaccessible to the ordinary white man, the Apache 



658 GEEONIMO. 

could look down upon the troops sent in pursuit of him; from 
his hiding-place in the hills he could make a sudden dash upon 
scouting-parties, or cut off supply trains J and the wily savage 
knew how to time these descents so as to avoid danger of dimin- 
ishing his band. 

Bat it was not only in finding secure hiding-places that the In- 
dians were too much for the whites. Had that been all, they 
might have been surrounded by a cordon of soldiers, and re- 
duced by famine. They had pathways known only to themselves, 
by which they could elude pursuit. Issuing from their rocky 
caves and lofty eyries, the untiring children of the plains would 
descend upon the isolated settlements which are scattered over 
the two territories, and write in fire and blood the message of 
defiance to the general whom they had once feared. Now and 
then, perhaps, a captive woman or child would be carried off to a 
fate worse than death; but more often all fell beneath the murder- 
ous stroke of the Apache. Possessing themselves of the horses 
which had once belonged to the murdered settler, they would 
ride off. However hot the pursuit they were not to be caught. 
The cavalry must have rest, not only for themselves, but for 
their horses. But if the steeds of the Indians tired, they had but 
to steal others at the settlements which they passed, and, fresh- 
ly mounted, the unwearied red men laughed at the white man's 
best speed. From ninety to one hundred miles in the course of 
the day was no unusual achievement, though they were encum- 
bered with their women and children; and if necessity required, 
they could travel as far again without resting. 

But their depredations were not long confined to these narrow 
limits. Escaping from the soldiers who had nearly surrounded 
them, the Chiricahuas fled into Mexico. The Apache campaign 
of 1883 had brought about an understanding between the United 
States and Mexican governments, that the troops of either nation 
were to be permitted to pursue hostile Indians into the ter- 
ritories of the other. Acting upon this understanding, various 
parties were at different times sent across the Mexican line into 
the Sonora and Chihuahua, and frequent brushes with the In- 
dians were the consequence. In accordance with the well-known 
theory of Gen. Crook, a number of Apache scouts were sworn in- 
to the service of the United States, between two or three hundred 
being under the command of Capt. Crawford alone. 

From point to point along the border the soldiers pursued the 



GERONIMO. 



659 



V^ '^" -'i^ffiBl " ' 'ii'N'T'fl"""'' 




660' GERONIMO 

fugitives. Now and then, n, sudden encounter between them ^Tculd 
result in the death of one or two whites, and tlie retreat of the 
Indians. These meetings would generally result from the efforts 
of the Chiricahuas to supply themselves with horses or cattle 
from the ranches of the settlers. To detail one is to describe alL 
That occurring on the 11th of October, 1885, is perhaps as char- 
acteristic as any. Let us briefly rehearse the circumstances. 

On Saturday, the 10th, Geronimo's party had driven off about 
thirty head of cattle belonging to the Corrallitos Comj:)any. The 
scene of the theft was Ramos, and two of the company's em- 
ployees at that point, Messrs. Megrew and Wallace, immediate, 
ly organized a party to go in pursuit of the thieves. Thirteen 
vaqueros was the force which they mustered. Early the next 
morning they came upon the position which the Indians occu- 
pied. It was on both sides of a canon, the cattle being secured in 
the deep ravine along with their horses. The cowboys, encour- 
aged by their gallant leaders, rushed to the attack. The Indians, 
vastly their superiors in point of numbers, and occupying a pos- 
ition having great advantages for defense, received the attack 
with more than usual boldness. The Apaches crept along 
the brush which stretched partly down the hill, and opened fire 
upon the vaqueros from two or three directions at once. The 
cowboys yielded, and began to retire. Seeing this, a part}' of 
four bucks came out from their shelter, and began to descend the 
sides of the mountain. One of the Mexicans fell from his horse. 
Megrew, who was near him, instantly drew rein, and springing 
to the ground, raised the fallen man in his arms,thinking to save 
him from an Indian captivity or massacre. But it was useless; 
the man was dead when he reached his side. Standing over his 
fallen follower, the American drew a bead on the foremost of the 
pursuers. The Indian leaped from the ground, and fell dead in 
his tracks. Before the enemy could again take aim, the others, 
repenting their rash courage in leaving shelter, turned and fled 
back to the main body. The death of their comrade was avenged 
by a volley from the hills, which, however, did no harm to the 
whites, who were by this time convinced that they could not 
hope to dislodge the Indians from their advantageous position. 
Such is a fair specimen of the fights which frequently occurred 
throughout the summer and fall of 1885 ; though it must be re- 
membered that the loss of a brave was rather an unusual thing 
for the Indians to experience. 



GERONIMO. 



661 



Many times through the fall of this year, the death of G-eron- 
inio was rumored. The present historian has not made an}' exact 
calculation, but has an impression that the chief was regularly 
killed every week for about two months. At the beginning of 
this season, Sept. 21, he had the temerity to venture totheChiri- 
cahua camps, 300 yards from Fort Apache. Here he remained 
until day-break, when 
he left for his hostile 
camp, taking with him 
two squaws, and as 
much war material as 
his pony could carry. 

The 1st of Novem- 
ber, Geronimo was suf- 
ficiently alive to be 
running from the Uni- 
ted States troops under 
the command of Lieut. 
Day ; and no less than 
three fights took place 
between this body of 
troops and the fugitive 
savages about this date. 
It was a comparatively 
easy thing for the Indians to elude the regular cavalry. But 
Capt. Crawford, with his Apache scouts, were equally well ac- 
quainted with the countr}^, and fully as able to endure hardships 
as the hostiles themselves. 

This able officer, a warm personal friend of the general in com- 
mand of the Department, was one of those who joined the army 
at the beginning of the Civil War. Beginning at the very foot of 
the ladder, without military training, and probably without po- 
litical influence, he had made his slow and laborious wa}^ to that 
rank shown by his title. Serving under Gen. Crook in all his In- 
dian wars, he had won that officer's high regard, as a man and a sol- 
dier. From his subordinates, too, the respect which must be shown 
to a superior was not an empty form. The Apaches, especially, Avho 
of all men were least likely to obey an officer simply because of 
the rank which he had attained, were more docile in his hands 
than in any others. It was owing to his skill in using troops of 
this peculiar nature that he was placed in command of almost the 




CAI'T. CRAWFORD. 



6B2 GERONIMO. 

entire body of Indian scouts, a mere handful being reserved to act 
as guides and messengers for the other commands. 

Since no one can fight the Apaches as well as their own peo- 
ple, Capt. Crawford had a great advantage over the other officers 
in the pursuit of Geronimo; nor did the nature of the man set 
this at nought. All through November and December he was 
upon their trail, patiently tracking them through the mount- 
ainous wilds of the two territories and the neighboring portions 
of Mexico. The story could not be told by any other, how skill- 
fully he avoided the traps which the wily Chiricahuas set for him; 
how wonderfully he guided and controlled the wild legion which 
he commanded ; and from him there is nothing but the dry and 
formal reports to his superior oflficer. His men have sung his 
praises, and it is from them, as well as from these same brief re- 
ports, and the accounts of his enemies, that the story is drawn. 

By dint of making long night marches, and undergoing almost 
incredible privations, this command had succeeded in coming up 
with the flying Apaches. Geronimo, thoroughly terrified when 
he learned that his own people were on his trail, had made his 
best speed, but in vain. The Apache scouts represented the more 
stable portion of the tribe, which was wholly at variance with 
the lawless portion known as the Chiricahuas, of whom they 
were in constant fear. They had much the same reasons as the 
whites for desiring the capture of the fugitives, and willingly 
followed the leader whom they loved and respected, even 
when the path lay in the midst of hardships and danger. The 
hostiles were encamped near Nacori, in the State of Sonora. 
Though they knew that the enemy was not far off, they thouglit 
that they were safe for that night at least. Silently up the side 
of the mountain, while the January dawn was still dim and gray, 
the scouts crept, guided and led by their commander. The hos- 
tiles, careless in their fancied security, were sleeping, if not the 
sleep of the just, at least the sleep of men who had been chased for 
hundreds of miles over a rough, mountainous country; who had 
been in the saddle for perhaps twenty hours before they dare to 
halt and rest. Suddenly the crack of Winchester rifles rang out 
upon the air. The braves start from the slumbers; the squaws 
clasp the drowsy children in an agony of fear ; for they are but wo- 
men, after all, these hardy, often cruel wives of the warriors. 
The alarm runs from one to the other ; the men hastilj^ grasp their 
weapons, and discharge them at random. The fire that is poured 



GERONIMO. 663 

into the camp is steady and regular, though the attacking party 
are at something of a disadvantage in point of jjosition. But the 
surprise has compensated for that, and the suddenly awakened 
Indians are soon convinced that their case is a hopeless one. 

The lay of the land was such that Capt. Crawford would not 
venture a hand-to-hand conflict, unless the case absolutely com- 
pelled it. Fortunately for his purpose, the hostiles recognized 
that they would ultimately be at his mercy ; that the most they 
could hope to do would be to protract the struggle, and thus en- 
rage the inevitably victorious assailants still more. He who de- 
fends an untenable position incurs the death-penalty; and of this 
rule of warfare the cunning Chiricahuas was not ignorant. Eely- 
upon the white man's chivalry, the souaws of the camp M^ere dis- 
patched as messengers to the officer. The firing upon the camp 
ceased, and the conferance began. The women stated that the 
braves wished to confer with Capt. Crawford ; that they were 
worn out with the long chase ; and that they were ready to meet 
Gen. Crook and surrender to him. Terms they had none to pro- 
pose ; they would place themselves at the mercy of the victor. As 
a sort of guarantee that they would hold to their bargain, Capt. 
Crawford demanded that they should surrender their horses, 
mules, ammunition, wagons and camp untensils. His require- 
ments were at once complied with, and it was agreed that a con- 
ference should be held the next day, looking to a meeting be- 
tween Gen. Crook and the fugitives from his anger. 

It becomes necessary for us to go back a few days, in order to 
explain the events of the next few hours. While the Apache 
scouts behaved themselves reasonably well within the limits of 
their camp, and while under the surveillance of their white oflfi- 
cers, when they were free from this watchfulness the Indian law- 
lessness returned in full force. Some of the men of Crawford's 
command had committed depredations upon the Mexican citi- 
zens. Added to this, it was not always easy for the harrassed 
settlers to say whether their assailants were Gcronimo's band or 
not. Of course, United States soldiers ought to be distinguish- 
able by their uniforms, particularly when they are upon the soil 
of a friendly country, in pursuit of a common enemy; but if the 
United States soldier insists upon reserving his uniform for state' 
occasions, and ordinarily wears the scanty garb of the aforesaid 
common enemy, how is the friendly nation to distinguish ? Such 
was the diflSculty which the Mexican troops encountered. It 



664 GERONIMO. 

could not be avoided, for the Apache, accoutered in full uniform, 
would not have been the same lithe and active mountaineer which 
he is when in his accustomed severely simple dress j but it gave 
rise to the most lamentable circumstance of the war. 

The Mexicans had suffered severely from the depredations of 
the Indians, as well as their neighbors across the border; and 
they, as well as the Northerners, were determined to resent and 
punish the outrages. The early part of January, particularly, 
had been fruitful in such attacks ; and there was more than one 
force in pursuit of the marauders. Even before the beginning of 
the j^ear there had been determined efforts made. A body of 
Mexicans, 150 strong, under the command of Santa Ana Perez, 
a captain in the Mexican army, had trailed a band of Indians for 
seventeen days, marching almost constantly. The utmost speed 
of the Indians had not availed them much in this extremity, for 
they had barely reached the main body of Geronimo's men when 
the Mexicans came up with them. The fugitives found their com- 
rades treating with a United States officer. They had jumped 
from the frj'ing-pan into the fire. 

The Mexicans, nothing daunted by the sight of the consider- 
able village which lay before them, opened fire upon it. They 
had followed that trail too long to be balked of their revenge, 
simply because they had a somewhat larger force to deal with 
than they had expected to meet. Through all the long days, when, 
almost starving, almost famishing, they had followed the thiev- 
ing, murdering Apaches, they had hungered and thirsted more 
for their blood than for actual food and drink. 

The supposed camp of Geronimo was not to be easily taken. 
Their fire was returned promptly and with telling effect. Sud- 
denly above the conflict is heard a boy's shrill voice : 

" For God's sake, stop firing! These are United States troops." 

Even as he speaks, there is a report from a Mexican rifle, 
though the captain had already given the signal to stop firing. 
The ball speeds on its way, and finds its mark — the brain of 
the gallant officer who had so nearly conquered Geronimo. 
With a muttered curse upon the hand which aimed it, an Apache 
returns the shot; then drops his rifle, and raises his leader in 
his arms. This Apache is "Dutchy" long a favorite, and de- 
servedly so, with Capt. Crawford ; devotedly attached to his 
commander, he could only avenge his death — not prevent it. 

Among the Mexicans the hand of death had also been busy; 



GERONIMO. 



665 



and had touched one of their bravest officers, Mauricio Coredor, 
who had rendered great service, not only to Mexico, but to the 
United States, in ridding the earth of Victorio, that bloodthirsty 
and cruel Apache, a worthy predecessor of Geronimo. 

The firing ceased, and Lieut. Maus, the second in command, 
advanced, accompanied only by the boy who had called out, to 
confer with the Mexican leader. The United States uniform is 
not of itself an all-sufficient guarantee in such a case, and Capt. 




"dutchy," the avenger of capt. Crawford's death, 

Santa Ana, worn out by the long chase and irritated by the fre- 
quent outrages of the cunning Apaches, was doubtful as to the 
course which he ought to pursue. Lieut. Maus replied that when 
they should reach Nacori, he could produce papers to show that 
he was what he claimed to be. But Santa Ana, resolved that he 
would not fail in discretion, refused to allow an Apache, whether 
a United States scout or not, to approach his camp. 



666 GERONIMO. 

The Mexicans had lost another officer besides the one above- 
mentioned, and two privates. Nine of their number were 
wounded; or, as the accounts say, only four. Of the United 
States force, two privates were wounded ; the commanding offi- 
cer being the only one whose injury proved fatal. Matters be- 
tween Lieut. Maus and Capt. Santa Ana were finally adjusted, 
each giving the other a letter, stating the manner in which the 
fight had occurred ; so that neither w^ould be censured by his 
superior officers for firing upon the soldiers of a friendly nation. 

Lieut. Maus still held as hostages the women who had been 
sent to treat, besides Chief Nana and one other warrior, whose 
presence in the camp had been demanded as an evidence of good 
faith. A later conference led the officer to believe that Geroni- 
mo's force was even smaller than had been supposed. Gen. 
Crook had estimated it at forty -two braves, all told; but Maus 
copld not believe that there were more than eighteen with the 
Chiricahua chief at that time. 

It was at first thought that the commanding officer of this de- 
tachment had been so wounded that his death was an occurrence 
to be momentarily expected; but it did not prove so. For six 
days he lingered speechless and helpless. Then his men took up 
the melancholy march, bearing his body to Nacori. The hostile 
Indians, whom he had so nearly vanquished, took advantage of 
the circumstance to repudiate their offer of immediate surrend- 
er, and pretended that they must consult others of the tribe. 
When they should find these other braves, all would surrender. 

The agreement had been made in such terms that this was no 
actual breach of faith; though, if Crawford had lived, they 
would doubtless have held more strictly to the spirit of their 
bargain. As it was, only a slight advantage, if any, had been 
gained ; and the long march of the Mexicans had not resulted in 
an}^ injur}", but rather in an advantage to the enemy pursued. 

Having escorted the body of Capt. Crawford to Nacori, where 
it was temporarily interred, Lieut. Maus, upon whom the com- 
mand had devolved, encamped with all his force upon the banks 
of San Bernardino Creek, whence he sent a courier to Gen. 
Crook at Fort Bowie with the request of the Chiricahuas for 
a speedy interview. Meanwhile, the wishes of the settlers had 
far outrun the facts, and it was confidently asserted that Geron- 
imo had already surrendered with all his braves. 

Gen. Crook at once assented to the request, and set off for the 



QERONIMO. 667 

rendezvous. The journey of forty miles was soon completed, 
and communications were made with the Indians, whose camp 
was about twenty-five south of Maus'. It would take some time, 
they said, to collect all the braves belonging to the band, as they 
were scattered about the rough mountain country and could not 
readily be reached by couriers. Meanwhile, the settlers were 
anxious about the surrender, and, as before, had it all arranged 
to their satisfaction several times before the commanding oflScer 
had fixed the date for it. The number of times that Gcronimo 
had been killed in the fall of 1885 was at least equalled by the 
number of times that he finally surrendered in the spring of 
1886. Unfortunately for the peace of the two territories, cap- 
turing was no more effective, when done in imagination, than 
killing in the same way ; and Geronimo remained in his camp 
until late in March, more than a month after Gen, Crook reach- 
ed San Bernardino. All details had been arranged for the con- 
ference, and it was thought that the Indians could interpose no 
further delaj'S. They professed themselves worn out by the long 
chase, and, tired of war, they heartily wished for peace. The 
fight in which Crawford was killed had occurred Jan. 11 ; it was 
now the 29th of March ; and b}- the morrow the whole business 
would doubtless be settled, and the hostile chiefs in the hands 
of the United States forces. With such ideas floating through 
their brains did the soldiers compose themselves to rest on that 
night J they awoke the next morning to find that the Indians, 
who had been entertaining them with such earnest professions 
of a desire for peace, and such solemn promises of future good 
behavior, had suddenly brought the farce to an end, and were 
laughing at the success of the performance, somewhere in the inac- 
cessible defiles of the mountains. Certain frontiersmen had long 
protested that Gen. Geronimo was a better officer than Gen. 
Crook, and this result seemed to justify them. Geronimo was cer- 
tainly a more accomplished liar. 

Despite the prestige of success which had attended his last 
campaign with this tribe, and the considerable force which had 
been engaged in the effort to end this war, Gen. Crook had fail- 
ed. This was now no longer to be concealed, and it was recog- 
nized even in official quarters. 

About the middle of April, 1885, a year after the beginning of 
the trouble, Gen. ^liles was placed in command, and a campaign 
was begun upon different principles. Crook's policy had been 



668 GERONIMO. 

to surround and crush the hostiles, as an anaconda does his prey; 
he might as well have tried to crush an air-cushion. Miles 
adopted a more vigorous and active policy ; and it was confident- 
ly predicted that the war would soon now be ended. Among the 
expedients inaugurated by the newly appointed ofiicer, was that 
of offering a reward for each Indian, or head of an Indian, 
brought in ; $50 being placed as the value of an ordinary brave, 
while Geronimo, alive or dead, was to bring $2,000 to his slayer 
or captor. In spite of these measures, however, the predictions 
of the speed}^ end of the war were not verified. 

About a month after Gen. Miles took command of the forces 
in pursuit of Geronimo, the southern horizon blazed with bea- 
con fires, and a general outbreak was feared. The Mexicans 
were aroused to new activity, and the United States forces were 
doubly alert. Five times within twelve days Gen. Miles inform- 
ed the War Department the Indians had been forced into a fight 
with the whites; and they had always managed to escape, 
though not without some loss. The most important of these 
was a contest on the morning of the 15th of May. Capt. Hat- 
field was attacked while moving through a deep canon, and lost 
two men killed and three wounded. The Indians lost several, 
but the whites could not ascertain how many. 

The Indians, harassed as they were, still had plenty of oppor- 
tunity for depredations. From April 28th to May 25th, there 
were fortj^-seven persons murdered by them; and although we 
have no exact statement of numbers, this average was at least 
maintained during the next month. 

The Chiricahuas were now in the foot-hills of the Sierra Ma- 
dre mountains, and it was almost impossible to trace them to 
their hiding places. Capt. Lawton was in command of the most 
important force sent against them, but he does not seem to have 
had enough men to accomplish the object proposed. Nomin- 
ally there was a large force at the disposal of the commanding 
officer; but, practically, it was necessary for at least nine-tenths 
of them to be employed in guarding the settlers or watching the 
reservations whence Geronimo might hope for reinforcements. 

In that part of the country the rainy season begins about the 
10th of July. During the continuance of wet weather it would 
be almost or quite impossible to prosecute the campaign, as the 
hillside strongholds would be absolutely inaccessible .to the 
troops. Geronimo had been taking time by the forelock in pro- 



OKRONIMO. 



669 



visioning himself for a. siege during this period; and when it be- 
gan considerably later than usual, was well prepared to defy all 




GEN. NELSON A. MILES. 



the efforts of the soldiery. He had evaded the watch of Capt. 
Lawton's command and had succeeded in getting back to the 



670 



GERONIMO. 



United States before the rains set in. G-en. Miles was much 
censured by his late admirers for not having pushed matters so 
that the Apaches would have been forced to surrender before 
this period of enforced inactivity on the part of the troops ; 
but his reason was probably the impossibility of doing so. 

Half a dozen forces were stationed at various points on or 
near the border j the commanding officers having orders to scout 
the surrounding countiy for several miles in all directions, and 
communicate by means of the heliograph signal system. By 




APACHES SCALPING SOLDIERS. 



these measures it was hoped that Geronimo could be discover- 
ed, and that he could be kept in his present quarters. 

The authorities were fully aware of the fact that Geronimo 
received much aid and comfort from his compatriots, the Chiri- 
cahuas, who remained on their reservation. It has been noted 
how, in the earlier stages of the war, he had spent the night 
with these friends, and had taken with him, on his departure, 
as much war material as his pony could carry. As long as the 



QERONIMO. 671 

main body of the tribe, though apparently behaving themselves, 
remained within reach of the hostiles, it was evident that Ger- 
onimo would want for nothing which the others could furnish 
him. After due consultation among the authorities, Gen. Miles 
obtained a promise that this should be attended to. Consider- 
able trouble was anticipated, but, contrary to expectation, the 
Indians submitted quietly enough when told that it had been 
decided to remove them from their reservation. The final ob- 
jective point had not been decided upon when the work was be- 
gun by transporting them to Fort Union, New Mexico. 

This took place the latter part of August. When the inform- 
ation reached Geronimo — or whether it was this which so affect- 
ed his decision, does not ai:>pear. He had held some conference 
with Capt. Lawton regarding the terms of a surrender. This 
officer, who during the past four months had traveled more than 
twelve hundred miles among the defiles of that rough, moun- 
tainous country, in pursuit of the wily Apache, refused to con- 
sider any terms whatever that might be proposed. Only an un- 
conditional surrender would end the war. 

Capt. Lawton was encamped in Skelton Canon, about sixty- 
five miles south-east of Fort Bowie, where Gen. Miles joined 
him about the first of September. He was then in conference 
with Geronimo, who was in the mountains hard by. Gen. Miles 
insisted upon an unconditional surrender as unequivocally as 
Capt. Lawton had done; and after some consultation with his 
braves, the oft-killed and much-surrendering Apache at last sub- 
mitted himself to the United States officers. 

This was the morning of Sept. 3. Gen., Miles remarked that 
Natchez was not among the Indians who had surrendered ; and 
messengers were sent to him to induce him to come in. He de- 
layed until the evening of the next day. His reluctance was ex- 
plained by him in two ways. In the first place he w;is fearful 
of being treated as his grandfatcr, ]\[angus Colorado, had been ; 
for it was the disgrace of that warrior's captors that he w«s 
murdered after he surrendered. Assured of his safety, unless 
the President should order a court-martii.' or deliver the late 
hostiles up to the civil law, he said that he had delaj-ed for an- 
other reason ; that he, the son of the great warrior Cochise, and 
the first chief of the Chiricahuas, wanted to be the last of his 
race to lay down his arms, and cease fighting- the white men, 
whom he and his fathers had fought for two hundred years. 



672 GERONIMO. 

While he was with unwonted eloquence telling of the motives 
which had caused his delay, a terrible storm came up. The su- 
perstitious savages clung together, assured that this was an evi- 
dence of the wrath of Heaven aroused by their surrender. But 
the storm passed away as quickly as it had come up, and a 
beautiful rainbow over-arching the sky, gave them promise of 
forgiveness and peace for the future. It never seems to have 
entered their heads that Heaven might be angry because they 
had put off surrendering so long. 

The news of the surrender spread with incredible rapidity 
over the whole section of country which had suffered so severe- 
ly from the depredations of Geronimo and his braves, and 
there were rejoicings everywhere. Congratulatory telegrams 
poured in upon Gen. Miles from all sources ; and never was the 
surrender of so small a force deemed of more importance. 
Twenty-two bucks comprised the entire force which remained 
to the hostiles. About eighteen months had been consumed in 
the effort to compel their submission. Gen. Miles had been in 
command just twenty-one weeks. The Indians had been pur- 
sued a distance of two thousand miles during that time, more 
than half the distance being traversed by that command which 
was at last successful. Their final submission was only brought 
about by the relentless animosity which their own misdeeds had 
excited, and which would allow them no opportunity for ob- 
taining food or rest. Completely worn out by the chase at last, 
they expressed their entire willingness to acquiesce in whatever 
plan might be made for their future ; and Geronimo himself 
promised to go, without resistance, wherever he might be sent. 

It was decided to place the Chiricahuas where they would 
have neither temptation nor opportunity to go upon the war- 
path again, and a point in Florida was decided upon as that 
which was most like their native section in temperature, and af- 
fording the necessary safeguard against the temptation feared. 
To that State, then, they were removed, and the great contest of 
the United States authorities with the Chiricahua Apaches, 
which lasted at intervals for nearly a quarter of a century, 
reached another stopping-place; whether the actual end must 
yet be seen. ^^^ ^ ^ ^^ 






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OCT V9 

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